Revenge: The 20th Annual Half-Blood games
by DreamShadow22452
Summary: President Snow has always hated demigods, but when they manage to defeat his mother once again, it is the last straw. The son of Gaea rigs the reapings to contain only the names of the demigods scattered about Panem and forbids volunteering. The 20th Hunger Games are sure to be interesting... Rated T because it's the hunger games. I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins.
1. Prologue

The mood in the conference room was tense. 12 capitol escorts, fitting in perfectly with the president's rich decor, sat nervously at the rectangular table, fidgeting and talking in hushed whispers. Why had the president called them here on such short notice? With the morning of the reapings only a few hours away, they should have all been on trains, headed to the various districts. But just as they had been heading out to the stations, they had each received a call from the president himself, requesting their presence at a last-minute meeting. But then why wasn't he here? Neither of his guests would dare to criticize Snow, much less complain about his punctuality, but the reapings could _not_ run late. And what on earth would he need to tell them _now_?

If the mood was tense before, there were no words to describe the change in atmosphere as the heavy oak door swung open and the stench of blood and roses filled the room. Everyone jumped as the door slammed with a resounding BANG! And the president himself took his seat. Everyone single one of his guests held their breath, staring at the snakelike man that had just entered the room. A green-skinned woman nervously played with her hair. A blue-haired man adjusted his tie. The district 1 escort, a young-looking girl, tapped her unnaturally long tails on the table, but stopped at a threatening look from the president. She turned slightly green, weather it was from the look, the smell, or if it was simply her natural skin colour.

Snow reached for his glass, and took a long sip of the dark red liquid. Clearly in no rush to start, he took his time. When he finally set it down, the colour on his lips seemed even more noticeable. Finally, the President spoke.

"I suppose you are all wondering why I called you here?" Twelve people nodded simultaneously. "I have decided on a little twist for these games. The districts need not know before the reaping." 3's escort opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. Not, however, without Snow noticing. "Is there something you would like to say?"

He tried to keep his voice even. It was much easier to talk to talk to an entire district than it was to address the president of Panem directly. "Well... I was just wondering... why you would do this... It's not a quell... or anything special really."

The president gave the man a calculating look, and dismissed the question. "I feel like it. Now, as for the twist: No volunteers will be permitted this year. You will each announce this rule before the start of the ceremonies."

There was a moment of silence. Each escort nodded in understanding, and at the president's dismissal, hurried out of the conference room. Soon, president Coriolanus Snow was alone.

He opened the folder that he had previously left at his place. Inside he found all the plans for this year's games; the arena, the staff, the twist. He chuckled softly at the silly escorts, who had believed that his plans for the games had simply been to forbid volunteering. What would be the point of that? To eliminate the careers? More like to guarantee that certain citizens ended up in the arena.

He pulled out the page where he had scrawled hundreds of names, sorting them by districts. Demigods. All the greeks, some of the romans. He had received a call earlier announcing that his request to rig the reapings to contain only those names had been fulfilled.

Oh, how he hated Half-Bloods. They did their best to prove to him that he did not control them. They participated in the games, of course, but that was just about the only rule they obeyed. They traveled freely between the districts and their beloved camps, some only coming back for the reaping. They were rich, and donated nothing to the capitol. Worst of all, the greeks had all sworn on the river styx to never volunteer or take out any tesserae, thus resisting the temptation to all become careers and at the same time limiting the amount of valuable demigods that were killed.

This was why so many romans would be saved from the arena this year. They were just as bad, except that they respected his games much more. They swore no oath, they volunteered to bring pride to their districts, and they made for some very interesting games. As a reward, only the names of the romans Snow particularly hated would be placed in the reaping bowls.

A smile played across the president's full lips. He had always wished death upon the demigods, and what better way than to thrust them into the games? And this was the perfect year, the only year they would really get the message: _You may have won this war against my mother, but Gaea remains all-powerful._

Snow closed the folder and left it on the table, knowing the no one would ever dare touch the president's private documents. He stood up and proceeded out the door and down the hall to his bedroom. Might as well get some sleep before the chaos of the games began.


	2. Reaping districts 1, 2 and 3

**A/N: Here is the first real chapter, hope you enjoy it! Make sure to review!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins or Rick Riordan. That applies to the prologue too, I just forgot.**

District 1:

Ivy Monroe, District 1's incredibly frazzled-looking escort, finally made it to the square after arriving in a train only moments earlier. The one disadvantage of being the escort for district 1 was that the reaping was incredibly early, as it was the first of the games, and she therefore had to wake up and leave before the sun even rose. She could not _stand_ being late to anything.

As she rushed toward the stage, she stopped only to pull out a mirror and make sure that she still looked perfect.

Check. Thanks to plastic surgery, district 1's escort looked about 15, dressed in the height of capitol fashion and with nails longer than her fingers.

Taking a second to catch her breath and calm her nerves, she mounted the stage to smile at the crowd before taking her seat at the back. To her absolute horror, the mayor was just finishing the treaty of the treason and the capitol escort had arrived just in time. As the mayor moved back to take his seat, she stepped up to the microphone, and began her speech.

"Welcome, district 1, to the very first reaping for the 20th annual hunger games!" This was greeted with cheers from just about every single person in the district. Oh, how she was lucky to have gotten such a great job.

"Now, in case you are all wondering why I was late, the president has made a last-minute request that there be no volunteers this year. How exciting does that sound?" This time, the poor girl had to try to quiet the crowd as everyone began screaming at her, yelling that it wasn't fair, that they needed the careers, that president Snow was stupid. The spunky girl who yelled that last statement was shot in the head by a peacekeeper, and after the squad moved in a bit, they managed to finally quiet the district.

The escort was slightly frightened by this almost-uprising, and hoped she wouldn't be punished. Trying to rid her head of such thoughts, she moved over to the girls' reaping bowl.

"I know it might be a bit of a disappointment, but I'm sure you guys will get over it. That just makes the reaping even more thrilling doesn't it?" She reached dramatically into the bowl, and, with a flourish, pulled out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, she read out the name.

"Citrine Opal!"

Ivy instantly_ hated_ her female tribute. The girl who walked onto the stage was breathtakingly beautiful. She had blonde hair arranged perfectly in an elaborate hairdo, with wisps framing her perfect face. Her dress was incredibly low-cut and the hem ended just below her thighs, not leaving much to the imagination. Though the capitol woman marveled at how she managed to walk in her heels, what really unnerved her about the girl was her eyes.

As Ivy introduced the tribute and congratulated her, she could not help noticing that they changed colour. At first, her eyes were a beautiful green, then when she looked again they were a dark sapphire blue, and then they were gray, and then brown, and she was incredibly jealous. If this girl won, every capitol woman would want eyes just like hers.

Shaking her head, the escort crossed the stage to draw the boy's name. Once again, she swirled her hand inside the bowl dramatically, before picking a name from the bottom. She unfolded it, and moved to center stage. The clip-clop of her heels could be heard all across the district as every single eligible boy held his breath and crossed his fingers.

"Quartz Ametrine!"

Ivy could not help a huge smile at this tribute. _He_ was a winner. Big and muscular, obviously a career, with a winning smirk on his face. The ecstatic escort's smile quickly melted into confusion, however, when the boy tripped, quite ungracefully, on the steps, but - here was the weird part - never seemed to hit the ground. For a split second, he had simply floated in the air, before righting himself.

Ivy rubbed her eyes. Obviously she was seeing things. How was that even possible? She must be hallucinating from the lack of sleep combined the trauma of a few hours ago.

The tributes shook hands, and their escort announced to grudging applause the tributes for the 20th hunger games, who proceeded into the justice building to say their goodbyes.

District 2:

If you could visit district 2 on any day of the year, the best choice would be on reaping day. For most districts it was a terrible day of fear, for some it meant parties and feasts, but for district 2 it meant much, much more. The reaping was a day of competition, where the 18 year-old careers would prove to each other their superiority, where the district would vote on their tribute, and cheer them on for the rest of the games. Reaping day meant the beginning of the hunger games process. And for many, It was the day that would decide their future: whether they would live a life of glory, die a painful death, or, worst of all, live on as someone who had not been chosen as a tribute, and had thrown away their whole life by training.

The morning of this wonderful day, everyone was, of course, in incredibly high spirits. Everyone, that is, but their capitol escort, who fidgeted nervously at the microphone. Most would think that she had been lucky to have scored such a great district, but this year, she would rather have _any_ other. She had fought hard for her position, of course, bringing home district 12's very first victor, but she had seen the beginning of district 1's reaping while on the train from the capitol, and she wasn't sure she was up to breaking the news to these citizens. This place made the luxury district look _tame._

She tapped the microphone 3 times. "Settle down, now everyone. It's good to see how excited you all are, but we need to move on." She waited patiently as a hush fell over the district, trying to calm her nerves. "Welcome, welcome, to the reaping for the 20th annual hunger games!" She paused. _Now, Jayana, just say it!_ She glanced at a peacekeeper, silently asking for help. "Now, I know this may come as a shock to many of you, but please bear with me. The president himself has requested that there be no volunteers this year. Doesn't that sound exciting?"

There was a moment of horrified silence as her words sank in. Suddenly, as Jayana had expected, there were cries of rage as the citizens realized what that would mean. The peacekeepers closed in on the crowd and the escort took her seat, signalling for the mayor to take the stage and recite the treaty of treason.

She breathed a sigh of relief. That part was over, and she was still alive. As the shouts died down, the mayor began his speech. Jayana listened to every word, the treaty had always fascinated her. When it was done, she took the stage once again.

"Now," She said, with a halfhearted smile "It is time to pick our lucky tributes! Ladies first!" She plunged her hand into the bowl dramatically and pulled out a single slip of paper. She could feel the excitement mounting as the made her way back to the microphone and unfolded the paper.

"Skyler Woods!" She called out.

Her first thought when she saw her tribute was that she was certainly not a winner. The girl was tiny! She emerged from the 15 year-old section but she looked even younger than that. At a closer look, however, Jayana thought that maybe she did have some potential. An evil smirk consumed the girl's face as she mounted the stage and, if the capitol woman wasn't mistaken, she was quite muscular. The crowd cheered for her despite their disappointment at not being picked, which was always a good thing. So this tiny girl was a career? And a good one at that too. Maybe she could win this thing...

Hoping for another promising tribute, the escort reached into the second bowl and drew a slip of paper. She walked back to the microphone once again and read out the name.

"Brett Onyx!"

The boy was 18 years old, extremely muscular, and clearly pleased that he had been picked. He smirked as he mounted the stage and shook hands with Skyler, who seemed to recognize him. From the training center, no doubt. What Jayana found strange was that not a soul in the crowd seemed to know him very well. Many recognized him, certainly, but none acted as if he were a friend of theirs. No one shouted at him, congratulated him, or protested. They simply whispered to their friends. She sighed. So he was antisocial? No doubt, with those mysterious black eyes and dark, greasy hair. He was scary, even for a career tribute.

Satisfied, The escort concluded the ceremony and ushered her tributes into the justice building.

District 3:

Sylvia Jones sat at the back of the stage, her hands folded on her lap, trying not to think about what horrors this year's games would bring. As district 3's only victor, she had had to mentor children for 8 consecutive years, with a fierce determination to bring home a tribute the only thing keeping her sane. She had seriously considered morphling, or alcohol, but had decided against it. As tempting as it was, she could not throw her life away like that and doom all the future tributes.

When the mayor began to speak, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists tightly, trying to push away the gruesome images that came to mind. She began counting down from 100, in an attempt to keep from listening to the treaty of the treason.

_100...99...98...97...96..._

At 43, the mayor took her seat and Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief. This was short-lived, however, as the escort bounded up to take her place and the knot in the Sylvia's stomach tightened.

This was it. He would pick the tributes and their lives would be ruined and she would have to get to know them and then they would both die and she would have to watch and then live with the guilt and-

_Calm down. _She told herself. _Pay attention._ The escort had just said something to the crowd about volunteering, Sylvia didn't really care, and had moved to the reaping bowl. "Ladies first!" He said, just like every year. Her heart pounded along with that of everyone else in the crowd as he unfolded the paper and moved to the microphone.

"Kennedia Wells!" He called out.

It was always easy to pick out the tribute, because everyone moved away from her, creating a path to the stage. But in this case, Sylvia wished she were mistaken. Why did she never get any good tributes? The 12 year-old girl took a second to close her eyes and take a deep breath before stepping forward. At least she was smart enough to hide her emotions. She had black hair tied up in a ponytail, with stormy gray eyes. She looked cute and innocent, which just made her mentor feel even worse about having to send her off to her death.

The little girl finally made it to the stage and Sylvia shot her a pained smile, then quickly turned her attention back to the escort, who had reached into the boy's bowl.

He squinted at the name. "Alectro Dawning!" He read out.

Sylvia thought this one might have promise, though she was really just hoping for someone who wasn't exactly hopeless. He seemed shocked when his name was called, as if he had never considered this possibility, and walked to the stage obediently, fiddling with something in his hands. He was tall and scrawny, 17 years old, with glasses. He wasn't much, but maybe, just maybe, he could win.

As much as it broke her heart, the mentor decided to focus on this tribute. If she was lucky, and she played her cards right, maybe she would have some company next year.

**A/N: What did you think? Please, please, please review! That sounds really pathetic, doesn't it? Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, but no flames please.  
**

**Oh, and can you guys guess who each tribute's godly parent is? I dropped a few hints, but congrats if you can figure them all out!**


	3. Reaping districts 4, 5 and 6

**A/N: Here it is! You guys are lucky to have gotten a chapter, Clockwork Princess just came out and the only reason I'm on FF is because me and my friend want to read it at the same time lol. I mixed it up a bit this time, playing around with different POVs, and I put a bit more effort into it as well.  
**

**I am not Suzanne Collins or Rick Riordan. However, I forgot to mention that this is not an SYOT and that all characters were invented by me, myself and I. Please ask if you want to use any of them.20**

District 4:

Aspen Burdock tried not to slip as he carefully walked across the stage to the reaping bowl. Yesterday's storm had soaked the stage, and the fact that his feet were fake did not help. He was thankful for the capitol design though, as his goat hooves would have guaranteed a dramatic dive off the stage.

The bad weather, coupled with the fact that district 4 was so far from he capitol, had made him considerably late to the reaping, and he had arrived just in time to pick the "Lucky" tribute. Yes, Aspen understood that the tributes were far from being lucky, and was perhaps the only capitol citizen that did. It was probably because he had grown up far away at camp half-blood, and had only taken this job to watch over his tributes.

He reached into the bowl containing the names of all the eligible girls, coming up with one slip of paper. Not bothering with a microphone, he yelled out the name.

"Lytha Mazely!"

He squinted at the paper. The name seemed so... familiar... Looking out into the crowd, he spotted her and his suspicions were confirmed.

Though the satyr did not spend much time at camp, He certainly remembered this girl. _Everyone_ knew about her. She stood out from the crowd as a daughter of Poseidon, with her sea-green eyes and long, black hair. As if today was any ordinary day, she had put it in her classic fishtail braid. She jumped when her name was called, undoubtedly awakening from a daydream. Most people said that this was only because of her ADHD, common in demigods, but hers was certainly not caused by any "natural battle instincts". She couldn't kill a thing, had never been on a quest, and her trainers had all given up on her. Aspen winced at the thought of this innocent girl in the arena.

He could see her making her way through the crowd, her wide eyes full of fear. They were shiny, but the tears had not escaped yet. She had stuffed her hands into her pockets to hide their trembling, and her lips moved slightly as she whispered to herself. She did this often, closing her eyes and transporting herself to some other dimension. She had once told Aspen that it calmed her down, that she was inventing stories. He guessed she was imagining herself as a different person in an attempt to hide her emotions.

The escort felt a pang of pity for her, but pushed it down. She was just a tribute, she would have to die. He had learned the hard way that pity was always a bad idea when it came to the games. With a sigh, he began the dangerous trek across the stage. Seriously, why couldn't they put the bowls closer together? He was halfway there when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see his female tribute.

"Are you hiding goat horns under your cap, sir?" She asked him. So close to the microphone, and with the birds all hiding from the earlier rain, her dreamy voice carried easily throughout the entire district.

Aspen's hands flew to his hat in horror, but he drew away at the sharp stab of pain. He realized all too late what had happened: The rain had flattened his hair, and he had been nervously pulling at the hat all day long. No wonder his horns were poking through.

Stuffing his bloodied hands in his pockets, the escort laughed along with the crowd. "Such a silly girl! Of course I don't have _goat horns_!" Just as he turned around to continue the ceremony, still laughing nervously and making cookoo gestures with his hands, the little girl stood on her tip-toes, reached up, and daintily pulled off his hat to reveal that she had been right before in guessing that he was a satyr.

The citizens of district 4 let out a collective gasp as Aspen Burdock's horns were revealed. He stared in horror at Lytha, before snatching up his hat and placing it securely on his head. "Oh, nothing to worry about." He assured everyone. "Just...ummm... Capitol fashion! Yes that's it, goat horns are the latest craze, but I just didn't think they would fit in here so I covered them up!" Her confused gaze shifted to his legs, then to his shoes, but thankfully, the tribute kept her mouth shut this time. His face burning from embarrassment, Aspen walked to the boy's reaping bowl and pulled out a name from the very top, not bothering to be dramatic this time.

"Hunter Clearwater." He said without enthusiasm, eager to finish the ceremony.

He let out an audible groan as an overly-excited 12-year old jumped up in celebration, before running to the stage and beaming at the crowd. He was pretty big and muscular for a twelve year old, with blond hair and blue eyes. Even as he stood on stage, he was clearly ecstatic at the prospect of going into the hunger games, jumping up and down, talking excitedly into the microphone about how he was going to be their next victor. So much for bringing home a tribute this year. Though the boy was clearly a career, there was the small disadvantage of him being 12, annoying and overconfident. The old satyr knew that he was judging the boy pretty quickly, but he didn't care. One way or another, he stood no chance in the arena.

The escort announced the two tributes to grudging, somewhat disappointed applause, and began to make his way off the stage when something stopped him in his tracks. He sniffed the air, hopefully discreetly as he didn't want people thinking he was any more of a freak. There it was again. Demigod. Much stronger than it had been before. He turned around and frowned at the boy, Hunter, who was engaged in a lively conversation with his district partner. When he spotted his escort, he waved excitedly and winked at him. Aspen snorted at his own stupidity. Two demigod tributes for one district? As if. He must be loosing his mind. Or just smelling Lytha.

The satyr descended the steps of the stage and, pushing past the paparazzi, made a beeline for the train.

District 5:

Lyssa Columbine walked mournfully down the roads of district 5 on her way to the square. She resisted the urge to drag her feet as it would get dust all over her pretty dress, all the while softly singing one of her favorite songs.

_Most times it all comes out wrong  
I don't know the words but I'll hum along  
There's nothing familiar here anymore  
To anyone, or anything enough to feel alive_

_And I still taste that sickness_  
_And it makes me crazy without it at best_  
_But I'm in the same place I used to be_  
_But I'm trying harder not to be-_

She stopped herself as she realized what a sad song she was singing. What had happened to the happy, bubbly Lyssa everyone knew, the one that put everyone in a good mood with the songs she always sang?

She knew the answer, and no, it was not the reaping. District 5 had happened.

She hated her district. There was no music here, it was what stood between her and what she loved, the career she had always wanted. And that was why she had been feeling down ever since her arrival for the reaping.

As she arrived at the square, she took her place in line to sign in, eager to get the ceremony over with. Only a few seconds passed before someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see a little twelve year-old girl, a total stranger, looking up at her.

"I heard you singing" She said shyly, "You're really good." Lyssa's face lit up at this compliment; she heard it all the time, but it still warmed her inside to know that someone liked her music. "Thank you" she answered simply. She gave the girl a one-armed hug and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "And don't worry about the reaping, you'll be fine." She straightened and turned around to see that it was now her turn to sign in. The peacekeeper pricked her finger and ushered her into the 18 year-old section.

She waited for a few minutes with the girls her age, her heartbeat speeding up and her palms beginning to sweat. What if she was picked? She never thought of the possibility much, but reaping day always set her stomach on edge. Finally, the overly perky capitol escort stepped up to center stage and announced that volunteering would not be permitted this year. She paused, clearly waiting for the "awwww's" that should follow, but there was absolutely no reaction from the crowd. It's not like anyone had been planning on volunteering anyways. Slightly embarrassed, she skipped straight to the treaty of treason, which barely anyone listened to.

Finally, the moment of truth. Back to her lively self, she drew a slip of paper from the girl's bowl and spent a seemingly endless minute walking back to the microphone and unfolding the card.

"Lyssa Columbine!"

Lyssa felt sick. She felt dizzy, like she would pass out at any moment. She was faintly aware of others around her backing away, making a path to the stage. The escort had pronounced the name lie-sa, but it was still easily recognizable. As if in a trance, the now-tribute walked the short distance to the stage, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out.

She reached the stage and the escort asked for a round of applause for their newest tribute. "Lisa" She corrected her, almost without thinking, as she mispronounced her name yet again. "It's pronounced _Lisa._" She repeated, still under the shock of being reaped.

The escort made a big show of apologizing to her, saying how terrible it must have been to have you name mispronounced, and sympathizing as apparently no one got hers right either. Finally, she moved to the boys' bowl. She fished out a name, and paused dramatically before reading it.

"Aster Hansen!"

_Oh gods. Not him. Anyone but him._ He was the biggest flirt at camp, incredibly good looking, and totally obnoxious. She didn't think he would be much competition, but _why_ did she have to spend her last days with _him_?

He smiled confidently as he made his way to the stage, but Lyssa could see that it was forced. Though she had to admit that he hid it well, a close observer could notice the terror in his eyes, the trembling of his hands.

The capitol escort eyed him hungrily, clearly pleased with her tribute. Lyssa rolled her eyes. So maybe Aster would do okay, what with all those sponsors he would accumulate. She hoped for his sake that they believed his act.

District 6:

Hermes had just finished putting a whoopee cushion on Zeus' throne when he glanced down at his watch and gasped. The reaping for his favorite district had already started! He teleported to district 6, far enough away from the square that no one would notice the sudden appearance of an incredibly good-looking god. As he arrived, Martha scolded him for having lost track of time with his "Silly, pointless pranks" (At this incredibly insulting comment, he considered throwing her away), and George - well, he asked where he would be able to find rats.

He began the short walk to the reaping square, his two snakes bickering the whole way. He reminded himself to ask Hephaestus for a mute button the next time he saw him. Once he finally arrived, he found a spot in the crowd as close to the stage as possible and watched eagerly. He had been lucky enough to miss all the introductions and had come just in time to find out who the unfortunate tributes would be. He wasn't as into the games as some other gods were (CoughARESCough), but he still found them quite entertaining. Besides, you know, the fate of those poor mortals. He knew that the games were wrong, but just like all the other gods he watched them with interest, and would never do anything to stop them.

The capitol escort unfolded the slip of paper and announced this year's district 6 tribute.

"Dahlia Jade!"

Hermes frowned. That name sounded familiar. He searched the crowd along with everyone else, and when he spotted the tribute his jaw dropped.

"Hey!" He shouted, "That's my daughter, you can't take her! That's not fair!" He did not know whether or not the escort heard him, but she gave no indication that she had. Overcome with rage at seeing his favorite daughter thrust into the hunger games, he began to jump over the rope in an attempt to stop what was happening, but was roughly pulled back by a peacekeeper.

As a god, he did not follow mortal law. He could have easily broken free of the man's grasp, but the incident had helped him see sense. Blowing up this escort would mean revealing to the mortals that the gods exist, as well as possibly the end of a highly entertaining T.V show. Sure, they could be manipulated by the mist, but he guessed that the gods would make _him_ perform this incredibly difficult bit of magic, and the messenger god was simply too lazy and busy to do such a thing. He calmed himself down, and the peacekeeper let him go. Turning his attention back to the stage, he saw that Dahlia had a slight smile played across her lips despite her situation, probably because of the show he had put on. No wonder, considering that few gods actually paid attention to their kids. He didn't either, it's just that this girl happened to be a particularly useful demigod and the most dedicated to the gods. She was also the most interested in travel, which he loved. So yeah, he was a little pissed that she was going into the arena.

Meanwhile, the escort had drawn the boy's name and moved back to the microphone. Her voice sounded all across the district.

"Vincent Sorel!"

The boy who walked up to the stage looked indifferent, as if he had expected such a thing and didn't really care that he had been reaped. He was fifteen years old, thin, and dressed in really old, faded clothes that didn't fit him properly. Hermes noticed that his eyes burned with a dangerous fire. He was a fighter, a rebel. He looked slightly familiar to the god, but he couldn't quite decide where he had seen him. Was he perhaps a demigod? Hermes rarely ever paid attention to mortals, and went to camp frequently on messenger business, so that must be the case.

All in all, the god of travelers was confident that his favorite district would do well in the games, perhaps bring home a victor. And, though a god should never admit it, he was _sort of_ cheering for Dahlia.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Don't forget to review!**

***The song that Lyssa sings as she walks to the reaping is Alibis by Marianas Trench. It's amazing, I totally recommend listening to it!**


	4. Reaping districts 7, 8 and 9

**Yet another chapter, I am on fire! I started writing this right after reading Clockwork Princess, so it starts out with lots of description and rich vocabulary, lol. That's what Cassandra Clare does to you.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins or Rick Riordan**

District 7:

Peridot Rosebay had always loved district 7. It had a certain peaceful atmosphere, surrounded by trees, everywhere you went you could hear the birds chirping. Perhaps her fondness for this place was simply because it was so different from her home in the capitol. Not that she hated the place, quite the opposite in fact, but it was nice to come here for a change.

It was for that exact reason that she asked to escort this district every year. She had first applied for the job hoping to explore the world outside of her perfect capitol, and had dreamed of bringing home careers from district 1 or 2. All that had changed the moment she had set foot in this beautiful place and heard a mockingjay sing for the first time. She now breathed in the fresh, clean air as she descended the steps off the train and into the rural city. She stepped into the shiny new capitol car and told the driver to step on it. The president's meeting had severely messed up her schedule.

As the vehicle rolled through rough terrain, Peridot looked out the window, committing everything to memory. Her second time as escort, she had been so entranced by the forests that she had promptly dyed her skin green to match the lush foliage surrounding this place.

When the scenery changed to the city square, bustling with excitement and nervousness, the car stopped and the capitol woman stepped out. She walked the short distance required and mounted the stage just in time to begin the ceremony. All those people were so tense and scared, Peridot vowed to lighten the mood and put everyone in better spirits.

"Welcome, district 7 - including our two yet undecided future tributes!" She added with an excited squeal "To the reaping for the 20th annual Hunger Games!" Dead silence. Even the birds decided to stop singing. Thousands of people stared at her, fear plainly written all over their faces. Her smile faded. Had she said something wrong? Why weren't they excited? Slightly nervous, she continued her speech. "Before we being, I would like to announce that there will be no volunteers this year. This has been requested by the president himself." There was a nervous shuffling of feet and a bit of whispering at this announcement. Had people planned to volunteer? Her heart soared, maybe these people did understand the games and what an honor it was to participate! "Now, please give a warm round of applause to your own mayor, reciting the treaty of treason!" She beamed at the crowd one more before moving back to take her seat.

The mayor spoke, and Peridot blocked out the rest of the world during those few moments. She_ loved_ the treaty, it never failed to move and inspire her. It spoke of finding hope amid ashes, of the values of honor and sacrifice, and she listened attentively every time.

It was finally time for the escort to take the stage once again and pick the tributes. She marched purposefully to the girls' reaping bowl and pulled out a single piece of paper. She unfolded the slip while walking to center stage, and was thus ready to announce the name once she reached the microphone.

"Jasmine Caraway!"

She searched the crowd eagerly along with everyone else and was surprised to see a small girl who could not possibly be older than ten step forward from the 18 year-old section. The escort's eyebrows knit together in misunderstanding, but she told herself that this girl must be confused as it was undoubtedly her first reaping. She mounted the stage with a strange confidence and determination, as if she thought she actually stood a chance, and she held her head high as she stood in place. Though everyone had decided that she must be quite young, she seemed... ageless. Peridot knew that it was silly of her, but when she looked in the tribute's eyes as she congratulated her, she sort of believed that she might be older than she looked. Her face held a strange healthy, almost unearthly glow and those mysterious eyes were full of wisdom, as well as fierce determination and courage.

Trying to clear her head of such strange thoughts, Peridot marched to the boy's bowl, chose a name, and walked back. The supernatural had always fascinated her, but the girl was only a tribute that was going to die, nothing special. There was no such thing as magic. She unfolded the paper and read out the tribute's name.

"Jayden Cedar!"

This tribute was at least in the correct section: 17. He was tall and muscular, the result of years of hard work, with chocolate brown hair. Though he could have easily pulled off the "dangerous and eager to kill people" act, he was clearly terrified. He visibly trembled and had trouble walking to the stage, even a single tear managed to escape and run down his cheek. He was clearly soft, kind and caring, not someone who belonged in a fight to the death. But rules were rules, and it didn't look like district 7 would be bringing home any victors this year.

Jayden looked slightly green as he shook hands with Jasmine and was escorted off the stage. Probably to the justice building, but Peridot couldn't help thinking that a bathroom would do him a lot more good.

District 8:  


Though not career district, Cypress still thought he had gotten a pretty good deal with 8. It was textiles, after all, his favorite thing in the world. Though he hardly spent any time here and never got to experience much, it was still nice to brag about his job as an escort for the district in charge of all things fashion. At least, that's what he thought it was about. It was really all that mattered.

He unfolded the slip of paper in his hand and read out the name of district 8's female tribute.

"Thalia Morgan!"

He gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. _Morgan?_ Like, _the_ Terry Morgan, most successful designer of district 8 and the latest capitol craze? Yes, it was quite possible. Cypress had watch all the interviews with the designer, and he had mentioned many times that he had a daughter. One that he cared about more than anything else in the world. And now she was in the games? Oh no, Cypress would_ have_ to bring her back now.

He saw her making her way to the stage, fighting hard but failing to keep from crying. The poor baby, no wonder her father cared so much for her. As she mounted the steps and the escort got a good look at her, his jaw dropped. She was beautiful. Dressed in a multicolored dress that her father had probably made for her, with her long, curly brown hair and ever-changing eyes, she was the girl of his dreams. He would have stood there staring, wondering who he was and generally making a fool of himself, if it wasn't for her obvious confusion that snapped him out of his reverie. She was so cute when she didn't know what was going on! He walked to the second bowl in a trance, fantasizing about the future when he would bring her back and she would be so grateful that she would fall in love with him and he would get free clothing from her dad and they would live happily ever after...

Without any conscious memory of having fished out a name, he suddenly found himself at the microphone. He unfolded the slip of paper in his hand and announced the male tribute.

"Kaspian Peryte!"

Wow. That was a fancy name, one he would _die_ for. Cypress was just so plain and... district 7. He searched the crowd for the boy, expecting to see some glamorous hero that would save the day by helping his beloved Thalia win but failing to capture her heart. Instead, he found a fairly normal boy of about 14, Thalia's age, with gray eyes and the sense to hold back any tears. He had messy red hair, and looked totally shocked that he had been chosen. He kept glancing at his district partner with a pained expression, occasionally shooting her a smile. He obviously knew her pretty well. When they shook hands at the end of the ceremony, he gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

The 50 year-old escort was suddenly struck with an idea. A horrible, horrible idea. They weren't... no... they couldn't be... Oh _hell_ no! Thalia was his, and no one else was allowed to like her!

Kaspian Peryte was going down.

District 9:

The small family had almost arrived at the square. Laurel Sanders grabbed her not-so-little girl's hand in fear as they neared the line, reminded painfully of her own reapings and fearing for her daughter. _Step_daughter, she reminded herself, though Rhea was as much a child of hers as Keelan was. And didn't she have the right to care for her, when the girl's birth mother was a cereal-obsessed goddess who didn't care about her kids?

The 15 year-old girl gave each of her parents a quick peck on the cheek before joining her stepbrother in line. At her husband's insistence, Laurel turned away from her children to find a spot in the crowd, already feeling sick to her stomach. Sometimes she thought that she worried more over the reapings than her kids did. Why would that be odd, though? She was worrying for not one kid, but two the same age and it was only their fourth reaping. The invisible band around her chest loosened just a bit as she realized that they were halfway done.

The escort mounted the stage and welcomed them all to the reaping, telling them how happy she was to be there and to see all their beautiful, shining faces again. Laurel didn't know why she even pretended to like this place; everyone knew she desperately wanted a promotion. She announced that as a surprise twist president Snow had requested that there be no volunteers, and the worried mother breathed a sigh of relief. It was common knowledge that when the president pulled a trick like that, it was because he wanted certain people to be reaped, and neither of her kids had done anything to deserve that. In fact, they had fought valiantly in the Gaea war the year before, though Snow didn't know about that. He was just a silly mortal who didn't know anything about the gods.

After the treaty of treason was recited, the escort moved to the reaping bowl, spent what felt like an eternity choosing a slip, and walked back to the microphone. Mrs. Sanders held her breath as she unfolded it, praying to all the gods and goddesses she had learned about 15 years ago.

"Rhea Sage!" The escort announced, painfully cheerful.

She felt the world spin, and was grateful for the people surrounding her as she almost fell to the ground. _no no no no no_ why did it have to be her? What had she done to deserve such a thing? Rhea was a perfect little angel who obeyed all rules and never questioned authority. She was on stage now, bravely holding back tears and trying to appear intimidating while the escort fished around in the other bowl. Laurel didn't even have time to cross her fingers before the capitol woman was announcing the name of the male tribute.

"Keelan Sanders!"

Heartbroken and terrified for her kids, she could only watch in horror as Keelan mounted the stage. He was such a good actor, with his cheeky, mischievous smile. Laurel realized with a pang how much he looked like his father, the god of thieves. And he was going into the hunger games.

Both her children would be going into the arena. At best, one of them would come back to her alive. The other would return in a coffin.

_Rhea...Keelan... Games... Arena... Fight... death..._ all those words spun around in her head as the world went black and she sank to the ground.

**A/N: What did you think? Review please, I will return the favor and check out your stories! *Glares at readers* I know I have plenty of views, you're all just hiding from me...  
**


	5. Reaping districts 10, 11 and 12

**A/N: Here is the final reaping chapter, enjoy!**

**I am not Suzanne Collins or Rick Riordan**

Distrct 10:

Lamia Garnet hated her job. The only reason she didn't quit was because she had always dreamed of being promoted to a career district. This place, which had only ever brought home 2 victors before, was about as far as she could get. The whole district smelled like manure, she could hear the obnoxious animals wherever she went, and the people were all hermits. Sometimes she joked that the livestock would one day stage a revolution and take over. She was secretly hoping it would really happen so the she wouldn't have to come here anymore for the reaping.

The worst part was that everything was so far apart, the total opposite of her own home. The train station was thankfully close enough to the square, but it was still grungy and smelly. She had to watch her step as she got off the train so as not to ruin her wonderful capitol-made shoes. The car that she was moved to had been imported from the capitol specifically for her use, and she was thankful for the one clean thing in this awful place. Once inside, she blacked out the windows, turned up the air conditioning, and pulled a giant mirror from the ceiling. She fixed her hair and touched up the sequins that completely covered her face, making sure that none were out of place.

All too soon, the car ride was over and she stepped out into the one busy place in district 10: The square. Even here, all was silent as she mounted the stage, every single citizen pale and sickly, afraid of what the day might bring. She put her acting skills to the test, hoping that if she seemed cheerful enough the president might finally get her that promotion. Just as she bounced over to the microphone, she was stopped my the mayor's hand on her arm. "Where have you been?" He hissed, " I had to do the introductions and was about to choose the tributes!". She sighed, _so much for that promotion,_ but kept smiling on her way to the bowl. She could feel the suspense in the room building as she plunged her had in and came up with a single slip of paper.

Once back at the microphone, she unfolded the slip and was about to read out the name when she remembered the president's request. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She said "There shall be no volunteers this year, just to add a little twist! Doesn't that sound exciting? Now, for our tribute.

Abigail Paige!"

The girl might have stood a chance if it wasn't for the fact that she burst into tears when her name was called. Lamia shook her head in disapproval. At 17, she should know how to control herself! She had light blue bloodshot eyes and thin, blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail that ended past her butt. The capitol woman winced at all the split ends. Had she _ever_ cut it? She mounted the stage, still sniveling like a baby, and stood in place as the escort crossed the stage to fish into the boys' bowl.

"Wytt Marsull!" She called out once she reached the microphone.

She searched the crowd eagerly and was happy to see a tribute with potential. He was big, with broad shoulders and huge muscles. Lamia wouldn't be surprised if he wrestled bulls for a living. He had shoulder-length tangly dark hair, with black eyes and was absolutely expressionless as he climbed the steps up to the stage, gave a curt nod in the direction of his escort, and proceeded to shake hands with his district partner.

Satisfied, Lamia concluded the ceremony and ushered her tributes into the justice building.

District 11:

Cecilia Nightshade felt sick. The mayor had just began the treaty of treason but she couldn't pay any attention. Her name was in that bowl 35 times and any moment now she would find out who this year's female tribute would be. She was worried for her friends, their families, but mostly for herself. Her best friend Leila, standing beside her in the 16-year-old section, squeezed her arm reassuringly as the mayor finished up. Cecilia turned to face her friend, not able to stand the suspense any longer. "How many times is your name in there?" She whispered under her breath.

Something flashed behind Leila's intelligent gray eyes, and her voice wavered as she whispered "Only five. My parents won't let me take any tesserae." Cecilia's jaw dropped. _No tesserae?_ She knew that Leila worked harder than anyone else in the district to keep her family alive, even stealing from time to time, but she had _4 siblings!_ Cecilia knew her best friend well enough to know that she would never let them take out any tesserae for her, so Leila was either a lot richer than she was letting on or had been living off scraps for the past year. And what kind of parent didn't let their children take out any tesserae? Leila's mom was dead, she had never met her, and her father worked just as hard as Leila did to keep the family alive. She simply could not believe that he would do such a thing.

She had just opened her mouth to ask what on earth she had been hiding from her when she heard the escort's voice coming from the stage.

"Leila Edelweiss!"

For a split second, she was relieved. She had been saved. But then she saw her bet friend in the whole world, who she had known since she was a baby, step forward and march purposefully to the stage. Cecilia didn't scream. She didn't rush forward to grab her. She didn't volunteer, though she knew that it would not be allowed. She stood there, frozen in shock. Why had it been Leila? She had just admitted to not taking out any tesserae. She was five names in thousands, whereas Cecilia had 35. It wasn't until she saw Leila standing on stage, determination written all over her face, that she realized her cheeks were wet from tears.

The escort, clearly pleased about having a fighter this year, swirled her hand around dramatically in the other bowl before coming up with a single name. She walked back to the microphone and unfolded the slip.

"Archer Caladium!"

Cecilia sighed in relief. No one she knew. She searched the crowd in the boys' section, finally finding the tribute. He was tall but thin, and pretty beaten up; covered in scars, welts and bruises. He scowled once on the stage, looking very vicious, and Cecilia worried that he might be a threat to her best friend.

The tributes shook hands and the escort concluded the ceremony. Cecilia ran toward the justice building, pushing her way through crowds of people. She had to say goodbye before it was too late.

District 12:

Hades, god of the underworld, sat back in his throne, exhausted. Yesterday had been execution day in the capitol and he had been incredibly busy with all the new arrivals. To make things even worse, the Hunger Games were coming up, which meant even more work; If a good person went mad and killed 3 other tributes, did they belong in the fields of punishment? Or should they go to Elysium for the good deeds they had done before? And he couldn't just send them to Asphodel, that would be unfair! And if someone was executed for rebelling, should they be punished for breaking laws, or rewarded for trying to overthrow the terrible government? Most would expect the god of the underworld to love death, and he sure did, but sometimes it was a little overwhelming.

He turned on his T.V and flipped through the channels. boring, boring, boring, aha! The reaping! He might as well watch that. Despite all the work the games were, he had to admit that they were entertaining. Besides, It was good to get to know a bit more about his future corpses, to decide what to do with them.

"_This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future._" A chorus of halfhearted applause came from the television as the mayor finished the treaty of treason in a monotone voice. The clapping quickly died away as the escort stepped forward to speak into the microphone.

Hades snorted when she announced that volunteering would not be permitted and acted like it was a huge tragedy. Like anyone was planning on it. District 12 had never had a volunteer. Ever. Clearly disappointed in the reaction she got (which was none), she proceeded to pluck out a name from the reaping bowl and read it out.

"Melanite Endeine!"

Hm. That sounded strangely familiar. The girl who stepped forth had jet black eyes and long, tangly black hair. Yes, Hades had certainly seen her before. Maybe she was a demigod? He had... 1... 2... 3 kids, but he couldn't name any of them, maybe she was one. Yes, now that the camera zoomed in on her and he got a closer look, he recognized himself in her features; The dark greasy hair and fiery eyes. He could also see a bit of a woman he remembered from a long time ago... He sat bolt upright. She was _that_ kid?

He was walking through the seam on of_ficial god business, blending in with the people surrounding him, who didn't spare him a second glance. The sky was gray, giving the place and even gloomier look and putting more emphasis on the fact that the whole town was covered in coal dust. The people were all hungry and poor, but one woman stood out. She walked with her head held high, though it was clear that she was just as hopeless as all the others, as she was dirty and dressed in ragged clothes. Hades could tell from her expression that she had lost a lot. She was clearly on the edge of death. He didn't know what, but something about this woman intrigued him, and he couldn't bear the thought such a beautiful soul wandering the fields of Asphodel. Before he knew it, he was beside her asking her what had happened. She replied that she was from 13, the recently obliterated district, and that she had fled once the bombs had started. She explained that she had been training outdoors at that moment and had therefore been lucky enough to run away to 12. She had nothing, she told him, everyone and everything she had ever known had been taken away from her._

_The god rarely felt compassion for any mortals, but this mysterious woman was something different. He had riches, he explained to her, more than she could possibly dream of. He could help her. She refused at first, saying that she could not live off of someone else, but he insisted. Finally, she agreed to take from him just enough to keep her alive.  
_

_Over time, they grew closer. Hades visited the woman in her new home every day for years, until the child was finally born and he had had to leave without explanation. As a god, he could not stay there too long. Besides, Persephone had been getting jealous. He had not seen her or her daughter since..._

Not until today. Now he finally found his daughter and it was because she was going into the hunger games. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Sure she would most likely be joining him soon, but he couldn't help thinking of her mother, and how heartbroken she would be if she lost another loved one. He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of such compassionate thoughts. He was a god. He turned his attention back to the T.V.

"Andrew Jackson!" The escort called out.

The boy who nervously stepped forward was obviously trying hard not to cry. Hades immediately dismissed him as dead. He was visibly trembling from head to toe as he mounted the stage, to cheers and shouts from a woman in the crowd who seemed very happy about his fate. "Yes, you go Andy! That's my son there!" She yelled. Hades wondered if she had any mental problems. How else could she believe that he would come back to her? He was clearly from the seam, with shoulder-length shaggy black hair and olive skin. There was also the fact that he was unhealthily thin; you could see his ribs from a mile away. Definitely a bloodbath. If he had to guess, he would say that this was an Asphodel kid; he hadn't done anything good or heroic in his life, but wasn't necessarily bad.

The god of the underworld turned off the T.V. as the escort concluded the ceremony and the tributes were ushered off the stage.

**A/N: Tada! Done with the reaping, on to the justice building! I have a poll up on my page: Who should win the 20th Hunger Games? Please vote on it!**


	6. Justice building districts 1, 2 and 3

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, school was sort of crazy... and then I got sick... and then it was my birthday... And then I had a 5-hour hockey clinic. Anyways, here is the part where you'll really get to know the tributes, as you go inside their heads. Enjoy!**

**I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

District 1:

_Citrine Opal, 16 years old_

Citrine wasn't sure what to think of her situation. She was a career; she had trained for this all her life, she lived in district 1, everyone had expected her to one day participate, she should be excited. But that was just the problem. This last step to becoming a career,_ actually going into the arena,_ had been totally unexpected. She had planned out most of her life to make it absolutely perfect, and becoming a tribute had not been part of it.

The door swung open, interrupting her thoughts, and her dad burst into the room, immediately wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug. "I am so proud of you! I knew you were destined to become a tribute one day!" He said, tears in his eyes. Citrine pushed him away, he was suffocating her.

He stepped back, but did not stop babbling about how happy he was. Citrine pretended to share his feelings the whole time, her dad was her idol. He had trained his whole life, but had not been quick enough to the stage the day of his last reaping. That had been an accident, of course, whereas Citrine had planned to do exactly the same thing on purpose, but it didn't really matter. He had still remained incredibly popular, and moved on to become an excellent jewler.

After a few minutes of excited chatter, he was finally called away by a peacekeeper. He bid goodbye to his daughter and left the room quickly. Citrine sank down into the chair, but her moment of peace was short lived as her two best friends walked into the room next. 16 year-old Sparkle, giddy with excitement, squealed and ran straight into her friend's arms. Meanwhile, 18 year-old Emerald stood by the door, sobbing. "Why was it you?" She wailed. "This was supposed to be m-_my_ year. Now I'll live in shame because I never even tried to v-volunteer! I'll never get to see the c-c-capitol!"

Despite her friend's obvious despair over her position, Citrine could not hold back a smile. _She was going to see the capitol!_ All her wildest dreams would soon be realized and it would not matter that she was headed to her death. During her single week at camp half-blood, she had begged shamelessly for a quest that would take her there, but without success. Nobody went to the capitol unless they needed to go to Mount Olympus, they had said, demigods were too noticeable. But now she had found a way despite everything. Too bad she would most likely die soon after.

Sparkle rolled her eyes at her sobbing friend. "Don't mind her," She said, "She'll come around. Now what we need to talk about is you!" She squealed the last word, her already annoying voice reaching such a high pitch that Citrine was surprised the windows didn't crack. "You're going to pull sooo many sponsors, you're the prettiest girl in the district. And then you'll win and be even richer and more popular and then in two years you'll be my sponsor and we'll live side by side in the victor's village!" Citrine had gotten used to her best friend over the years, but she really needed to calm down. She could get pretty annoying.

Nevertheless, she was equally excited at the prospect of her trip to the capitol, and babbled on pointlessly along with her. They sat down in opposite chairs, talking as they had thousands of times about what they thought the capitol would be like. Somehow, the topic never got old for the two girls, maybe because they had so many theories, and the place they had dreamed up was just so spectacular that they could never get get tired of their fantasies. This conversation was particularly interesting as Citrine was actually on her way there! She was so engrossed in her imagination that she completely forgot about the prospect of the arena and her eminent death.

The time past by so quickly that they were both surprised when the peacekeeper peeked in to announce that the visiting time was over. As Sparkle stood up and gave her friend one last hug, Citrine asked her if there had been anyone else waiting outside to see her. "Oh yes, there we plenty of people!" She replied, her eyes wide, "All the girls wanted to beat you up and all the boys wanted to wish you luck! They're all madly in love with you, you know." Citrine smirked, satisfied, as her friends left the room, Emerald still sobbing about her ruined future.

* * *

_Quartz Ametrine, 18 years old_

Quartz could not believe his luck. The last year he was eligible for the reaping, there were no volunteers. Already he had the slightest chance, as he would not have been allowed to participate otherwise. Then his name had been picked. He would soon go into an arena where he would fight to the death against 23 other tributes and win. He would go back to district 1, and be known as a hero in both worlds. As the only son of Zeus and the best fighter at camp, he was famous in the demigod world, but that was not enough for him, for no amount of glory and celebrity would ever be enough for Quartz Ametrine.

He had asked the peacekeeper guarding his room to allow no visitors, though he did not expect any. He lived at camp, and had since he was 5 years old, no one in the mortal world knew anything about him beyond the fact that he dominated training every year during the week he came for the reaping. He chuckled softly to himself, remembering the girl he had electrocuted and nearly killed during a fight. He had learned long ago that any display of violence or superiority at the training center was always a good idea. He would never be punished.

He could not wait until the seemingly endless hour of "Goodbyes" was up. He wanted to get to the capitol and convince them of his abilities, of the certainty of his victory, as quickly as possible. What could he do to pass the time? Maybe he should get started on his plan for sponsors right away? After all, he had never really thought he would ever go into the games, he had sworn an oath not to volunteer. Of course, he could have just gone to a different district, but he liked 1 much better. Winning would not be considered a victory anywhere else. Besides, he had been born here.

He pulled out a worn piece of paper from his pocket and fished around for a pen. Unsuccessful, He he sank back into his chair, leaned his head on his hand, and made a mental list of all the ways he could make sponsors.

1. Appear dangerous  
2. Get a 12 in training  
3. Try to pick fights with other tributes, disregard the rules  
4. Convince everyone of his guaranteed victory in interview

Well, that was easy. Now what could he do? Devise an arena strategy? He knew what he would be doing, you learned stuff after watching the games your whole life. Besides, he was such a good fighter it didn't really matter what he planned to do. He could fantasize about the capitol? No, that was for ridiculous girls like his district partner. Fantasize about the arena? Now, that was more interesting. Morbid, but better than sitting around doing nothing.

He pictured driving a knife into the chest of a faceless tribute, their blood staining his hand... No, what was the point of imagining such a thing when he would soon be doing it and had done it before? With monsters, mostly, but he had killed his fair share of people...

With a dramatic sigh, he resorted to counting the flowers on the wallpaper in the room.

* * *

District 2:

_Skyler Woods, 15 years old_

Skyler was ecstatic. Maybe even to the point of being shamefully girly. But for once she didn't care. She was going into the hunger games! It was all she had ever dreamed of: bringing honor to her district, fighting to the death, killing people. She couldn't forget the all-important aspect of killing. There was nothing quite like the feeling of holding someone completely at your mercy, having them beg you to spare them, both of you knowing that all it would take to end their life was a flick of your wrist. That you controlled whether they lived or died, whether they left the world in peacefully or in unimaginable pain. And then there was the best part: Watching the life slowly drain out of them and knowing that it was your doing. She had experienced that feeling only three times; once at camp, when her tour guide had told her she would have to swear on the styx to never volunteer or take out tesserae; once in training when a girl had baited her, and once on the street when a man had insulted her fighting abilities, saying that a girl as small as herself could never be a fighter.

She was ashamed of her size, it was true. It was one of the two things that she hated about her appearance, the other being the freckles that covered her nose and cheeks. She was a daughter or Ares for the gods' sake! She was supposed to be big and threatening, not small and frail like her mother! She had tried everything, _everything_, to look more threatening, but to no avail. Sometimes she thought Aphrodite had cursed her to look cute. _Waste in on someone else, beauty queen,_ she thought._ I don't want your help. In fact, if it turns out to be you I will personally ask my dad to strangle you on your next date._

Just as she was thinking up ways to kill Aphrodite, the door opened and in stepped her best friend, Emma. An evil glint in her eye, she lunged at Skyler. Before she knew it, Emma was on top of her, having tackled her best friend to the ground, holding a knife to her throat. Skyler laughed. "Not fair! I wasn't prepared!"

Emma stood up, still grinning from ear to ear. "And you won't be prepared for any attacks once you're in the arena. Keep that up and you'll never live to become my mentor."

Skyler glared at her, though she knew it was all for fun. "We both know I scored higher than you in training this year. I'll be the best tribute district 2 has ever had!" They had agreed long ago that the person who scored highest of the two of them the year they both turned 17 would volunteer that year. The other would go into the arena a year later, with their best friend as mentor.

Emma crossed her arms and glared at Skyler. "That's only because you go to that stupid camp for 6 months." She said, "Why won't they let me in?"

"Because I'm special and you're not!" She answered simply. Her best friend attempted to tackle her again, but she was prepared this time. She stepped forward and punched her squarely in the jaw. Having succeeded in knocking her off balance, if only for a minute, she jumped in top of her with catlike agility and pinned her down onto the floor. "I can still kick your butt, not matter what you think."

The two girls continued like this for a long time; talking, insulting each other, and then launching into a fight, until she finally left, explaining that there had been someone else waiting for her and that she didn't want to waste her time.

Skyler moved to the door, wondering who it could possibly be, and was thoroughly surprised when a tall, bald, muscular man entered the room. She did not recognize him at first, and had opened her mouth to very rudely ask him to leave, when he removed his sunglasses.

It was her father.

She gasped and took a step back, tripping over the leg of her chair. What was the god of war doing in the justice building?

Apparently sensing her surprise, he smirked. "I was in the crowd when you were reaped, this is my favorite district. You didn't expect me to pass up a chance to visit my daughter, did you?" When she remained speechless for probably the fist time in her life, he shrugged. "Admittedly, it took me awhile to realize you were mine. Then I remembered you stabbing that kid to death in the battle last year. You had that same look in your eyes."

A million thoughts were running through her head. Ares remembered her! He must think she stood a chance if he had bothered to visit her. The god sighed. "Well, it doesn't look like we have much time now. I want you to know that I'm rooting for you. And" He looked her straight in the eye, "that I want you to make your district proud. That doesn't only mean winning, that means making these games interesting. I want lots of blood and screaming."

He walked out of the room, leaving Skyler staring at the door until the peacekeeper came to pick her up.

* * *

_Bryce Onyx, 18 years old_

Bryce hadn't expected any visitors, and was unsurprised when he got none. He lived at the training center, but he had no friends and preferred things that way, it helped him devote all his energy into training for the games. He had no family that counted, and everyone he knew was afraid of him.

And for a good reason. Bryce had been training for 11 years, and if that didn't seem like much for a career he made it up by never leaving the building. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He had been lucky to have been reaped, as stupid camp half-blood had forbade him from volunteering, thus ending any chances he had had of ever going into the games. He could have moved away, of course, but that would have meant giving up his training. He fingered the multicolored rope bracelet at his wrist. It would have been so much easier to just move somewhere else, forget everything, hopefully go into the games... But he couldn't bring himself to leave this place, as much as he hated to admit any attachment. He had had his whole life planned out: train until his last reaping, then get a job as a trainer and teach other to be just like him. Not the best life, but it was all he had. And now all that had changed because he would be going into the hunger games, and would emerge victor.

He knew that his chances were better than most, and it wasn't just because of his constant training. He had been born the day after the reaping, meaning that although he was now 18 and still eligible for the reaping, he would be 19 by the next day and would soon become the oldest tribute to ever enter the arena.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. He looked up, not having expected anyone to visit him, and nearly jumped out of his seat. He stood up, walked around the chair, pressing his back to the wall, trying to put as much distance between himself and the woman who had just entered the room.

Though he tried not to, he could not help noticing how much she had changed since he had last seen her. Her face seemed much sadder, with more lines around the eyes and mouth than was normal for someone of her age. Her eyes were red from tears that were still streaming down her cheeks. He picked up the chair, pointing its legs toward her.

"Get out." He hissed, "Now. And I don't ever want to see you again."

She ignored him. "I can't believe it. Why was it you?" She whispered, "Out of every boy in the district, it had to be you."

His hands trembled. He clenched them into fists, tightening his hold on the chair. "I wanted this. I would have volunteered anyway and you should be glad your district will have a winner this year. _I_ am the best candidate. _I_ trained the hardest out of all of them. You should be _glad,_ but you're too selfish to want what's best for your district."

"What did those monsters do to you?" She whispered, still crying silently, "I'm so, so, so sorry. Please come back for me."

"Don't bother apologizing." He said. His voice trembled. "I will come back, but not for you. When I do return home, we will live on as strangers, never speaking to each other, because I think I've already made it clear that I don't ever want to see you again. I told you that eleven years ago and I am saying it again. Now _get out _before I call the peacekeepers"

Shaking her head, still sobbing she walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Once the sound of her footsteps faded away, Bryce lowered the chair and slid down the wall into a sitting position. He stayed there until the peacekeeper came to take him away.

* * *

District 3:

_Kennedia Wells, 12 years old_

Kennedia had barely entered the room in the justice building when the door flew open and her father stepped in. He crossed the room in two huge steps to pull her into a comforting hug. "You'll be fine," he kept saying, though both of them knew it wasn't true, "you'll win, you have to. You're smarter than the rest."

She pulled away to look him straight in the eyes. "I'm 12 years old, daddy. I'm small and frail and I don't stand a chance against the careers. In 20 years, our district has only brought home one victor and she went crazy." he looked pained at her words, and she noticed that his eyes were red, his hair messy. But his voice was even and confident when he grabbed her shoulders and spoke to her.

"You are a daughter of Athena. You look exactly like her, and you are the smartest 12 year old I have ever met. You got three years of good training. You have a better shot at winning than any other tribute district 3 has ever had, and it will be a long time before someone else as promising as yourself comes along. _You can do this._"

Her eyes welled up with tears at his words but she forced them back. She was tough. She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry. She turned away from him, fixing her eyes on a crack in the wall. It was true that she had a better chance than most. She had had swordfighting lessons at camp, and she knew battle strategy. Her mother was the goddess of wisdom. Even if her mentor was totally useless, she could teach herself, she knew what to do. Still, Kennedia doubted it would be enough to win the games.

Her father apparently didn't share that opinion. He seemed determined that she would win and come back to him, sitting her down and drilling her on every aspect of the games: Training, getting sponsors, the bloodbath, allies, and her general strategy for the arena. He told her all the tricks they had come up with while watching the games year after year. Kennedia couldn't help a faint smile at the memories. The two of them sitting on the couch, criticizing everything the tributes did and coming up with better strategies for them. They had never placed bets, but had guessed the winner every year, often correctly. They had made up so many strategies, talking about the games constantly, but neither had ever really considered the possibility that Kennedia might actually be reaped one day.

Camp Half-Blood had helped her, taught her how to fight with a light sword and made her even better at the game they played, and so maybe she had a chance. A small one, but still a better chance than most. She sat there talking to her father about the games, and about anything that came to mind, really, until the peacekeeper came in to announce that it was time for him to leave.

* * *

_Alectro Dawing, 17 years old_

In an attempt to keep his mind off things, Alectro continued to absorb himself in working on his toy. He only managed to do so for a few minutes, however, as the door opened to reveal his mother and 3-year-old sister, Cable. He pulled the former into a hug, while the latter clung to his legs. He bent down to face her and pulled out of his coat pocket the toy car he had been working on. Her face lit up as he held it out to her. "This is for you. It's not finished, but you can get mummy to do that for you, okay?"

She took it eagerly, but frowned. "Mummy isn't as good at fixing stuff as you are. Why can't you finish it?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm gonna have to go away for a little bit, so you'll have to make do without me for awhile."

"Just like when you went to that camp?" She asked, referring to the month he had spent there before coming back.

"No, not quite like that. I won't be coming back this time." He answered, and he heard his mother inhale sharply. "Don't say that!" She hissed, and he looked up, addressing his next words to her.

"I'll try to win, but you shouldn't get your hopes up."

Cable's eyebrows knit together in deep thought. "You said that camp was lots of fun, and you only left because they didn't use electricity. Will you have fun at this place?"

Alectro opened his mouth to tell her that no, he would certainly not enjoy the experience of the arena, that he would most likely meet a painful death, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "Yes," He said instead, "I will be having fun, don't worry about me. Instead, you should worry about how to finish that car of yours." It pained him to lie to his little sister, but he didn't want to worry her. She would learn one day, when she was old enough.

He stood up to face his mother once again. "I will try, you know." He said, "To win. I haven't given up hope yet." She nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case she broke down into tears.

Silently, she picked up little Cable and stepped out the door into the justice building. Alectro wondered if it would be the last time he ever saw them.

His next visitor flew into the room and straight into his arms, sobbing hysterically. It was his best and only friend, Techna. He staggered back a few steps but managed to regain his balance and push her away to hold her at arm's length. He was starting to think that this hour was less a time for him to say goodbye than it was a time for him to comfort all his loved ones. Weren't they supposed to be strong for him, not vise versa? He sighed. "I guess there's no point in saying you can make new friends? Or that I might come back?" He asked her halfheartedly.

She glared at him, her hands on her hips. "You're the only friend I've ever had and you know it. And don't-" She jabbed her finger into his chest, hard "You ever give up hope! You are going to win." She poked him again "And you are going to come BACK!" She started crying again at the last word and Alectro had to sit her down on the couch at the back of the room. He sat down beside her and cleared his throat.

"Listen-" She cut him off. "No, no, no, don't start talking about what I should do if you don't come back, I don't want to hear it!" She screamed, and he put his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, fine, just one thing. When I'm in the arena... Don't let Cable watch any of it... not if you can help it. She's too young." She nodded in understanding, looked at her watch, and stood up. I'll have to go now. There's someone else out there waiting for you." She gave him one last hug and walked out the door without looking back.

Alectro watched her leave, wondering who else could possibly want to see him. His confusion only increased when he did not recognize his next visitor at all.

It was a boy about Alectro's age. He wore a big hat, and one of his feet looked slightly crooked as he walked into the room. He looked worried, even scared, which seemed odd since he wasn't the one going into the hunger games. He began talking as soon as soon as the door was securely closed.

"I know you're a demigod," he whispered, "I can smell it. I don't know who you godly parent is, but it doesn't matter. You need to listen to me."

Despite the boy's warning, Alectro interrupted him. "Whoa, wait a minute. What are you? And how do you know what I am? Besides, I only spent a month at that place." He had left because mortal technology hadn't been allowed. Apparently it went haywire around half-bloods, though certainly not around Alectro. He was particularly gifted with electricity.

The boy looked annoyed. "I'm a satyr, but it doesn't matter. We've been trying to prevent too many demigods from dying in the hunger games, and now we've got two from the same district. What did you do to deserve this?"

Alectro was shocked. "Umm... nothing. The reaping is random-"

"Oh, you don't really believe that, do you? When the president randomly forbids volunteering, it means something."

"I didn't do anything, I've been perfectly good. I even helped you guys in the war last year when you asked."

The satyr didn't look satisfied, but thanked him anyways and walked out of the room. Not long after, a peacekeeper came in to escort the tribute to the train.

* * *

**A/N: Remember to review! Also, vote on the poll if you haven't already. Keep in mind that you can pick up to 3 tributes, but that there are plenty of pre-games events coming up to help you decide which ones you like best.**

**I am sorry to say that updates will be a bit slower now than they were before, as it now takes me a lot longer to write each chapter.**


	7. Justice building districts 4, 5 and 6

**A/N: I am so sorry for the late update! I only have time to write on the weekends, so don't expect them to be much more frequent than this. I also tried to make this a bit better than the last one, which was pretty rushed. I kind of have to balance updating frequently and putting lots of time and effort into each chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

District 4:

_Lytha Mazely, 16 years old_

The room in the justice building was painted a light blue, the walls adorned with pictures of past female tributes, all of the room's past occupants. Looking around, Lytha recognized some of them, though many of the girls had died long ago and almost all had changed beyond recognition. Of the 19 faces staring back at her, only three had survived the games. Their pictures were all twice the size of all the others. Lytha knew that her own photo would soon be hung up in this room, for future tributes to look at, though she doubted they would spare her a second glance. She would be nothing more than a faceless girl, forgotten in the excitement of that year's games, someone who had been killed off without too much trouble. Most likely a bloodbath.

For Lytha knew that she stood no chance in the hunger games. She may be a demigod, but she had never been very good at fighting. All her trainers had given up on her long ago, because she could never pay attention during... well, anything. She had never been on a single quest. Even if the arena was completely made of water, she doubted she would be able to concentrate long enough to actually win. She couldn't help it, she just got so distracted by pretty things, she found it so easy to let her imagination run wild. She liked to invent stories sometimes. Stories of heroes and heroines, of princes and princesses, of people who could face anything fearlessly, of the kind of person she would love to be. She had heard once that the people before the dark days had invented stories too, writing them down and sharing them with other people, but they had all been destroyed by the capitol. It was unfortunate, as she would have loved to hear other people's imaginings. She found it reassuring to know that she wasn't the only person like that, that she wasn't as crazy as everyone else seemed to think. She thought that the people who told her that were the crazy ones, and pitied them their inability to lose themselves in other worlds. Her imagination helped her get through things, unfortunate circumstances, like the reaping. She had imagined herself as a character from one of her fantasies, bravely stepping forth to participate in the games. She wondered if that would help her in the arena. Could she put herself in the place of a girl who was not afraid to end another's life? How mad would she have to be to use her powers for anything besides self-defense, something she had never thought she would do, no matter what the circumstances?

The door swung softly open, and the one person she had actually expected to see walked into the room. Her stepfather was tall and thin, and of course bore no resemblance whatsoever to his stepdaughter. Still, he was the only family she had, as she never counted her _real_ dad. Why would he care about her when he was an all-powerful immortal? This man was much more realistic, a regular mortal. He wrapped his strong fisherman's arms around her, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, neither of them talking. He smelled like the sea. When he eventually drew away, Lytha was crying. He looked at her, not smiling like he should have been, not reassuring her, but with pain written all over his face. _He knows I'm not coming back_, Lytha thought.

"You can-" His voice cracked, but he cleared his throat and tried again. "You can win right? With all the training at camp?" He looked doubtful, but Lytha could see the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. She turned her face to the floor, studying the cracks in the tiles. She had never told him what really happened at camp, about how she had been dismissed as hopeless and spent her days wandering around. Instead she had come home every year with fascinating stories of what she had supposedly gotten up to at camp. She preferred not to think of them as lies, but merely fiction, stories she had come up with, some inspired by the tales of other demigods. She told her stepdad what she would have liked to have actually happened to herself, how she imagined her time at camp. Sometimes her imaginings were so vivid that she convinced even herself.

But the truth was that she was a terrible swordfighter. She had never battled a monster. The only time she had even _seen_ one was when she had been attacked. She did not engage in single combat on a regular basis. She was certainly not the champion. She had never captured the flag in the camp's games. She was never even allowed to participate in the chariot races. What did all that mean? She was dead. There was no way in Hades she could ever win the hunger games. But how could she say that to her father? How could she tell him that this was the last time he would ever see her, that she would not be coming back?

She continued to stare at the floor.

"Yes. I guess I stand a chance" She mumbled, her voice barely audible.

He placed a finger under her chin and gently lifted it so that she was looking him straight in the eyes. She had always thought his gold eyes had seemed out of place in this town of blues and greens. "You are strong, and an amazing fighter. I may never have seen you wield a sword, but from what you've told me no tribute will want to go anywhere near you when you're in that arena. I don't care what you think of yourself, I believe in you."

She bit her lip and looked away again, ashamed of what she had told her dad, but nodded.

* * *

_Hunter Clearwater, 12 years old_

Hunter could not believe his luck. He had known, in arriving at the square the morning of his first reaping, that this was his year, the year he would win the hunger games. It had been amazing, so much more exciting knowing that his name was in that bowl, if only once. Hunter knew that he was totally ready for the games, having started training as a career when he was only 5 years old. Honestly, how much training did one person need? He could win, no problem. He had been born for the games, he felt sure of it, with both his parents being victors and all his siblings bloodthirsty careers. His brother had died, a terrible disgrace to the family, and his sister had won, making the family even richer than they already were. His other older brother was 17 years old, and would volunteer the next year. Luckily this twist hadn't gotten in the way of that. When Hunter had pretty much vowed not to participate in the games, he had thought it was the end of the world. He had anticipated being kicked out of his home for being supposedly afraid of the games, more of a disappointment than his deceased brother, who had at least tried. But now there was no reason for him to worry, for the wonderfully amazing president of Panem had decided to ban volunteering, and at the perfect year too. The fates had been listening, after all. With luck like his, there was no way he _couldn't_ win. He was destined for it.

He jumped up as the door opened, beaming, but he didn't care how crazy he looked. His smile faded slightly, however, when he took in the somber faces of his parents and siblings.

"Such a shame" His mother said. Her expression as she looked at him was wistful, as if she had lost an expensive piece of jewelry. They were all shaking their heads, disappointed in him. His brother looked angry, for some reason.

"Why would they do that? So much potential, just... wasted!" He said. Hunter grew even more confused. What were they talking about?

"Guys, why are you looking so sad? I'm going to make it back, I'll become the first ever 12 year old victor!" He laughed nervously, but it quickly died down as their expressions stayed the same.

His sister sighed and moved over to place a hand on his shoulder. "It will be a shame to watch you die, little brother." She said, before turning and stalking out the room. With a shake of his head, Hunter's only living brother followed her.

"Two sons lost to the games... How terrible." His mother muttered, also leaving. That left only his father.

"Just... Try to last long enough, okay?" He said, "And at least kill a _few_ people."

Hunter sank back into his seat, dumbfounded, as he too left the room. What was with them? Did they honestly believe he would die? They weren't giving him any support, and his dad was supposed to be his mentor! He had been tempted, _so_ tempted, to shout at them that he wasn't normal, that he was special, a demigod, just to see the looks on their faces. But he knew that would be a terrible idea, as it would mean revealing what his mother got up to when she was mentoring in the capitol without his dad - or rather, _stepdad. _She would kill him, literally kill him, just like she had promised when he had first confronted her after learning about camp half-blood.

He was a son of_ Ares_, the god of war, and she knew it. How could she still think he would die? It was ridiculous! The Ares kids were the best fighters at camp, they were just born like that, and he had the advantage of career training. And even with all those advantages, his family still didn't have the slightest bit of hope that he might return. _Well,_ he thought, _I'll just have to prove how wrong they are about me._

* * *

District 5:

_Lyssa Columbine, 18 years old_

Lyssa was commonly known as a cheerful, likable young girl who enjoyed life to its fullest and always had a smile on her face no matter what. There was no trace of that person in the sobbing girl now sitting on the couch in the justice building, her face buried in her hands. It was too much. She had thought she had had the worst of it in coming back to district 5 but gods, she had been wrong.

Looking back, she realized that all her actions prior to finding out she was a demigod had been heavily influenced by an overwhelming fear of the hunger games. Camp half-blood had been an escape, where she could avoid the harsh reality of the real world and almost forget about the games. A home where she would never be forced to take any tessera, but instead forbidden from doing such a thing. She had thought she was safe. But all that had had been for nothing, becasue Lyssa Columbine was going into the hunger games. And she was going to die.

It was ironic, she thought, that she was being forced to represent a district she felt no connection to, that she even hated more than any other place. The games were supposed to be about honor and sacrifice, about bringing pride to your district, but she had never considered this place hers. Maybe it was just the fates' way of making her pay for deserting her family.

The gentle creak of hinges as the door softly opened went completely unnoticed by Lyssa, who was too absorbed in her thoughts. A girl not much older than herself slid inside, closing the door behind her. Upon seeing the crying girl before her, her face, which had previously shown nothing but a mask of indifference, softened in sympathy. Once upon a time, people had thought the two girls were twins, though no one would never make that mistake now. Where one was well fed and healthy, clearly rich, the other had hollow cheekbones stained with dirt, wearing mismatched boy's clothes that hung loosely on her skinny frame. She crossed the room very slowly, and was just reaching out to awkwardly pat her little sister's back, when Lyssa looked up.

The first expression to cross her face was one of immense surprise. Her eyes darted around to room, searching for other people, and she seemed to relax, though only slightly, upon finding none. She turned back to stare at Ava, but paled considerably and turned her head to the floor. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I came to see you, obviously," Her sister whispered, also staring at the floor. When she got no answer, she continued weakly. "You can win right? With all that career training you've been getting you must be-"

Lyssa cut her off. "_Career training_? Are you crazy?" Her head snapped up to look her sister in the face.

Ava slowly looked up as well, confusion plain in her eyes "But... Mama said you had gone to train like a career."

"Why on Olym- I mean, Panem would I do that?" Lyssa shouted, incredulous "I just went to a camp for..." She groped for an appropriate word "_Special_ kids. We got a bit of training, but not much, and we are most certainly _not_ careers! I cannot_ believe_ you actually thought that!"

At that, Ava exploded, raising her voice as well. "Well what were we supposed to think? You left us with no explanation beyond 'I'm going to a camp to learn to defend myself'! We thought you had found some secret career organisation and would use you winnings to help us! We waited 10 years, Lyssa, 10 years! Starving, dirt poor, but clinging to the hope that you would come back to save us one day. We had _nothing,_ and now I see you here, filthy rich, bawling your eyes out as if you're the only person in this world who matters. You've been keeping everything to yourself like some... some capitol person!"

Lyssa's red rimmed eyes widened at the last part. In the districts, any rich person was often described as a capitol citizen. Though it was never directly used as an insult for obvious reasons, it also meant a selfish person, someone who kept everything to themselves instead of helping people in need. How could Ava call her that? Couldn't she see that it was the only option she had?

"You always knew I was special," She said calmly "That I had talents the rest of you didn't. I'm sorry you weren't doing well but I never liked it here, I couldn't bring myself to go back. Besides, it wasn't safe-"

"But that shouldn't have stopped you from helping us, we're your family! I should have known you wouldn't come back, you were always so selfish! You never think of anyone but yourself and your stupid music and you know what? I'm glad you're going into the hunger games because it's exactly what you deserve!"

And with that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

_Aster Hansen, 16 years old_

Aster seriously regretted not paying attention in sword fighting lessons. How could he have possibly known that it would ever come in handy for things besides going on quests? Now he was going into the arena with nothing but the stunning good looks and amazing flirting techniques he had worked on rather than fighting. Sure, those skills might come in handy for the capitol, but one couldn't win the games off of sponsors alone. Maybe they would come in handy at first, but the games brought out everyone's bad side and he was sure the money would stop coming once he entered the arena. Scratch that, they would all be scared away once they saw his 2 in training._ Confidence, Aster_. He reminded himself, _Confidence works for picking up girls, capitolites should be no different._ Was it possible that some tributes would spare him because of his looks? Unlikely, but Aster decided to cling to that silly notion to help him through the games. Oh, who was he kidding? He would die in the bloodbath.

He looked up upon hearing the door open and was disappointed but unsurprised to see his dad standing before him. He let out a sigh, and sat back, letting his hands fall to his sides. His father was well-groomed as always, and even had a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"You'll do your district proud, son." He said. He was always blabbering about how amazing district 5 was but honestly, Aster didn't see it. The girls at camp half-blood were way hotter. Like that Lyssa girl who had also been picked. Great, he would have to kill pretty girls on top of everything.

"And I'll get you your winnings" He replied, rolling his eyes. That was all his dad really cared about; glory. For the district, for himself, whatever. No wonder Aphrodite had fallen for him. Well, she fell for anyone who was willing, which was pretty much everyone. Aster wondered if he had inherited anything from his dad's side of the family. He liked to think of himself as a male version of Aphrodite.

His dad smirked at his reply, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "That's my boy!" Aster flattened his hair back into place, frowning.

"You know, most parents are upset when their kids are reaped" He wasn't sure why he said it, it had just been bothering him.

"And that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever." He answered "They should be proud and happy like I am, because they get a chance to be rich and bring honor to their district. Besides, why would I be sad if you're never home anyway? You might as well be already dead!" He gave a hearty chuckle, before turing around "Now, I'll leave you to work on your strategy. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favour!" He practically bounced out of the room, still laughing, and closed the door.

Just as Aster was sinking back into the chair, preparing to brood on his eminent death, his next visitor ran into the room and flew onto his lap. It was his current girlfriend from camp; Silvia, daughter of Apollo. She pressed her lips to his, kissing him fiercely, but he drew away. "What are you doing here?" he asked breathlessly.

She reluctantly moved off his lap and contented herself with sitting beside him on the couch. "I came to say goodbye to you, silly!" She rested her head on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to pull away. He really needed to break up with her; she was _so_ annoying. Besides, she was so much like his sisters it was just plain weird.

"So you came all the way from district 1 just to see me?" It sounded like something she would do.

"Well, not exactly. I decided to come to 5 this year for the reaping, to support you, maybe even meet your family. But I didn't see you!" She stuck out her bottom lip in a fake pout. Seriously, she was sure her mom wasn't Aphrodite?

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she hurriedly buried her face in his shirt. "I can't believe you got reaped!" She wailed "You can win though right? For me?" She still refused to look up, and Aster guessed it was because she wanted everything to seem more romantic, though it was equally possible that her mascara was running.

"Of course I can win" He said, though he didn't believe it. He stroked her hair, already planning a televised breakup during his interview. It would be much more dramatic, and a great way to prove to the capitol that he was single. People would remember the guy that broke up with his girlfriend on live T.V.

She finally looked up, and his theory about her makeup was proved correct; her face was streaked with black tears. She raised her left hand, dramatically pulling off the ring she always wore; a simple gold band set with a huge red stone. "Will you keep this as your token?" She asked, her voice weak "It will protect you, and remind you of me." He resisted the urge to laugh at her overly dramatic request, but took the incredibly feminine ring and placed it on his finger. She had just opened her mouth to say something when there was a loud knock on the door and the peacekeeper announced that their time was up. Aster stood up, grateful, and turned Silvia toward the door. She cried even harder but obliged. Once she was out of sight and Aster was on his way to the train, he discreetly removed the ring and placed it in his pocket.

* * *

District 6:

_Dahlia Jade, 16 years old_

As Dahlia sat in her chair, letting everything sink in, she could not help thinking of the one good thing about being reaped; she was going to go to the capitol. And if she won, she would see the other districts on her victory tour. The capitol was the one place she had never been on a quest, and had always dreamed of seeing, so somehow, she found it hard to focus on the actual games when faced with the prospect of such an adventure. She loved travel, just like her mother, and being a demigod just felt so _right_ for her. It let her travel, something she would never have been able to do as a normal citizen of Panem.

There was a soft knock on the door, and her mother stepped in, closing it behind her. She was a mess; her eyes red, her hair falling out of what had previously been a very neat bun. She immediately wrapped Dahlia in a bone-crushing hug, muttering the whole time.

"First him, now you, what did I do to deserve this?" Dahlia immediately felt guilty at her words. She was all her mom had left, and she had selfishly left for camp half-blood. Now she was going into the games to leave her mother alone again.

"Don't worry, I'll make it back to you" She whispered, and meant it. She was going to give it her all just to make her mom happy.

She drew away, but continued to hold Dahlia by the shoulders. "Your father would be so proud of you"

_Ha, as if._ she wanted to say,_ He has so many kids, I'd be surprised if he even knew my name._ But instead she just nodded and managed a half smile. Her mom didn't know that she had fallen for the god of thieves, and had been devastated when he had left her. She blamed herself, but Dahlia thought she just had rotten luck. Of course she had fallen for someone possibly more interested in travel than she was, it was just unfortunate that he had decided to spend so much time in district 6. Maybe things would have worked out better if she had lived in another district. Then she would have fallen for another man and had a normal kid who wouldn't desert her the first chance she got. That way, she wouldn't have spent her life alone just because no one could compare to her first love.

"Mom... Can you promise me that if I don't make it back... that you'll get over it?" Dahlia asked hopefully

Her mom sighed in exasperation. "Dahlia, you know that won't happen. I've already given up my heart."

"But if I just knew you would be alright-"

"Then you wouldn't try as hard. I'm sorry, but no matter what happens I won't be able to get over it."

"Mom you have to!" Dahlia yelled, tears streaming down her face. "Odds are, I won't be coming back and I can't die knowing what it will do to you!"

"Dahlia, listen to me. I must have done something pretty bad in some other life, because I'm pretty sure I was meant to be alone and there's nothing you can do about it. Just try your best to win and then you can go back to your camp. Don't worry about me."

Reluctantly, she turned around and left the room. It was a good thing Dahlia was standing right in front of a chair, because she immediately collapsed into it and began to cry.

* * *

_Vincent Sorel, 15 years old_

That's it, President Snow had it in for him. Ever since the incident with his dad, Vincent had been dreaming of the day he would separate Snow's head from his body, ridding the world of such an evil force for good. He had always figured he would get the chance someday by escaping camp and going on an adventure, but this opportunity was even better. He wondered when the tributes were unguarded, when he would be allowed to sneak away. Or was it possible that he would be guarded 24/7? It that case, he would just have to beat up his peacekeepers. Easy enough, right?

But did he really want to kill the president before the games? Sure, he hated him, but he was kind of looking forward to the games, with the surviving, strategy and killing people. Could he just wait until his victory tour to put his assassination plan into action? He was almost certain of his victory, what with his demigod training. He might not have any special powers, but he had plenty of experience in battle. He would simply show off in training to get into the career pack, and if that failed make some useful alliances. When the time comes, he would stab his allies in the back (literally), and take home the crown.

But how to put himself in the best possible light in the pre-games preparation? Having the worst possible godly parent ever, he possessed absolutely no special powers (Thank you Demeter). He knew swords, careers liked those, and he fought with a pretty brutal one. He would, of course, rely on skill and brute force to win the games and not on sponsors, but they could come in handy.

He still couldn't really count on sponsors though, as he was not exactly the most likeable of sorts and capitol citizens tended to want their favorites to win, and not some random guy who expressed an immense hatred for their president. He shuddered. They thought he was so great, but they had never seen that side of him... _The capitol shall exact it's revenge... _That guy gave him the still had nightmares, though he would never admit it to anyone.

Maybe he shouldn't take the risk and just kill the guy the next chance he got. It's not that he wanted to save the country of anything, he wasn't that noble, it was a personal issue that he couldn't bear being solved by someone else. It was kind of his greatest ambition, as morbid as that sounded, and he had always thought that his life would not be complete until he killed Snow.

He was not just Vincent Sorel; son of Demeter. He was Vincent Sorel; Assassin of the evil overlord and the savior of Panem.


	8. Justice building districts 7, 8 and 9

District 7:

_Jasmine Caraway, 18 years old_

Jasmine was seriously annoyed. Just as she had been settling down with the hunters, preparing herself for an eternity of adventures, Peridot Rosebay had decided to pull her name for the reaping bowl. _Why her's? _Why not some random girl who had nothing to live for anyways? She felt bad to think that, and she certainly did not wish death on any mortals, but it did happen every year. Joining Artemis had meant being cut off from the mortal world, and the only exception had been these stupid games. This had been her last year having to go back for the reaping, when she had finally thought she would be able to leave and enjoy the advantages of the hunt, and now everything would be ruined. In her opinion, the hunters should not have been forced to enter their names for the reaping, it was just unfair to all the other tributes. Jasmine did not want to seem overconfident, but she was pretty sure that she could win against a bunch of silly mortals.

But the problem was that she didn't really want to kill them. She killed monsters and animals, sure, but never _humans_ (With the exception of the occasional male). The boys, she would be okay with. Eight years of hunting had taught her that women were far superior and that men should be avoided at all costs. She never would have had any trouble anyways, as her only sister had been killed by a boy in the hunger games. But now there would be an equal amount of tributes of each sex and they would all have to die if she wanted to make it home.

She looked up as the door opened and her mother walked into the room. They had not seen each other in eight years, and it was therefore natural that they both spent a few minutes awkwardly staring at each other. Jasmine found it odd to see how much her mother had changed when she knew that she herself looked exactly the same as always. A ten year old girl, tall and strong for her age, though no one ever noticed that last part.

"You look the same." Her mom said lamely after a stunned silence, echoing her thoughts. "Yet... different at the same time..."

Jasmine laughed. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does." She answered simply, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the circumstances. "You look somewhat the same, but you carry yourself differently. More... confident. You're healthier. And wearing different clothes."

Jasmine cracked a smile, momentarily forgetting why she was there. It was just like old times, joking around with her mom. Though she had completely devoted her life to Artemis, a part of her still missed this.

"One of the advantages of the hunt" She said, "I will look like this for all eternity. Isn't it odd to think that I will outlive you?"

Her face fell, and Jasmine mentally kicked herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ How could she have said that, she should have known!

But her mom just took a deep breath and said "I sure hope you will." She had always been like that, talking only when it was necessary and avoiding awkward situations.

"I think there was someone waiting to see you," she said, "Good luck." And with that, she left the room.

Jasmine was unsurprised to find that her next visitor was Thalia, lieutenant of Artemis and a good friend of hers. She looked somewhat subdued today, her normally electric eyes almost dull and her black hair messy instead of spiky. The t-shirt she was wearing in place of her hunting jacket was a simple black, absent of any slogan.

"Well, this sucks." She said finally, after closing the door behind her. She flopped down into a random chair.

Jasmine sank back into her couch. "You can say that again"

Thalia did not, in fact, repeat her earlier statement, but instead went for a much more optimistic approach. "It will be so much fun, sneaking you away from the victor's village. They'll be so mad!"

Jasmine laughed. Trust Thalia to think of that. "Imagine, a victor who suddenly mysteriously disappears never to be seen again. The capitol will freak!"

"They'll add so much security, to make sure it doesn't happen again!" Thalia joked.

"Well, the security's already pretty good. We'll have to plan this carefully."

Thalia crossed the room to sit down beside Jasmine on the couch, and they started to plan out the escape. They thought of elaborate plans in which the hunters would distract the authorities in ridiculous ad far-fetched ways, and Jasmine would manage to jump out her window and disappear. Most scenarios were nearly impossible and involved much sneaking around, explosions, and control over the mist.

The girls were still laughing when the peacekeeper knocked on the door to announce that the hour was up. "Just one more minute!" Thalia yelled.

Jasmine pitied the peacekeeper, who attempted to enter the room and was promptly electrocuted.

Thalia turned back to face her friend, suddenly serious, and ripped something off her wrist, placing it in her lap. "They won't be able to tell that it's special, they can't recognize magic. Good luck." And with that, she ran out of the room, narrowly avoiding the reinforcements that arrived to inspect the unconscious peacekeeper.

Jasmine looked down at the silvery object on her knees, and gasped.

Thalia had given her Aegis.

* * *

_ Jayden Cedar, 17 years old_

Jayden felt sick. Were there no bathrooms in the justice building? He could not have been the only tribute to ever throw up after the reaping, could he?

He flopped down into the chair. He should have seen it coming, though, what with the "No volunteers" thing, but he had never really thought of the games as a real possibility. He supposed it was because of all the time he spent at camp. Besides, he had helped save the world the previous year, and this is what he got? That had been traumatizing enough for the poor, cowardly son of Apollo. Even if all he had done was shoot monsters from a distance along with his siblings.

But he doubted that strategy would work this time. Hiding only got you so far in the games and a bow couldn't do much from a close distance. What could he do? Just sit around and wait for someone to kill him? That wasn't exactly the demigod way to do things, but it was all he had. If he had only thought of looking tough before he had started crying at the reaping, maybe getting sponsors would have been an option, but it wasn't like anyone would support him now. He could use a bow pretty well, thanks to his dad, but that was pretty much as far as his skills went. Unless you counted singing, but it wasn't like he could kill someone with that. Actually, _bad_ singing would have been an advantage, as maybe he would have been able to burst someone's eardrums that way.

All in all, he was screwed.

And for the first time, lighthearted, cheerful Jayden wallowed in self pity, thinking about just how very screwed he was and contemplating what to do with his last few days.

His worries were such that he jumped when a cold hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder. He spun around, expecting an attack, but as it turned out it was only his best friend, Jack, who worked with him in the forests. He looked on the verge of tears and about as bad as Jayden felt, which really was saying something.

"I can't believe it, man." He sniffed, "All those times I was mad at you for leaving, and now this happens."

Jayden felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't his fault that mortals weren't supposed to know about demigods.

"Better me than you, though. At least you have family to live for." He replied solemnly. No one would care if he died, he was alone in the world. Jack, at least, had a sister that lived with him at the community home. Jayden turned away to hide the tears threatening to spill out, though he didn't know why he bothered.

"Don't say that! You have plenty of things to live for! Like your friends, and that camp, and the mockingjays in the woods..." At that, Jayden considered holding back the tears, but decided against it. The capitol already thought he was a coward, he had nothing to lose. He was pretty much already dead.

"Yeah, 'cause all I have left to live for in the world is a bunch of silly birds that repeat whatever I sing. Knowing the capitol, they'll probably put a bunch in with me anyways."

Jack looked confused. "But would that really be so bad? I thought you'd want something to remind you of home while you were in the arena"

Jayden sighed. "Maybe..." He had always thought the mockingjays would be different in the games, like as if the capitol had messed with them or something.

They descended into a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes, it was Jack that broke it. "You can win though, right? You said that you get trained to fight at that camp, like careers."

Jayden winced at the last word. He did not like to be associated with the bloodthirsty tributes from district 2 that he would now have to face, but it had been the best way to describe camp. He supposed he was a sort of career, but with different intentions. He fought for survival and to rid the world of monsters, not for glory.

"Yeah, I guess I might stand a better chance than most, but I'm still not a very good fighter and I don't know how to survive in the wild."

Jack's shoulders visibly drooped. "Well, good luck. I think there might have been someone else waiting for you."

He left the room, and Jayden waited for his next visitor, wondering who it could possibly be.

No one came. Jack had been lying.

* * *

District 8:

_Thalia Morgan, 14 years old_

"Don't worry Thalia, the odds have always been in our family's favour! You'll be fine." Terry Morgan said soothingly, trying to comfort his daughter, who was struggling with the arduous task of holding back tears. She did not believe her dad one bit.

"I seriously doubt I inherited any luck if I got picked for the hunger games." She snapped. Her name had only been in that bowl 3 times, how was this possible?

He sighed. "I was reaped as well, and it is only now that I realize how fortunate I was, because remember what happened after that?"

"Yes daddy," She mumbled. A crazy kid had volunteered because for some reason, he had thought he could win. Then the capitol had started to notice her dad because of it and that's how they had started to buy his work. But she was already going into the games and there was nothing she could do about it. How could this story help her? It was just a way of rubbing it in her face that he was lucky and she was not.

He poked her in the chest. "And that means," He continued "That you are going to win - not just out of luck, but because the capitol loves me and they will not let you die."

Thalia still doubted him. Even the citizens of the capitol were not naive enough to spend tons of money on a girl with no skills whatsoever just because her dad was famous. But she could tell that he was trying to make her feel better, so she forced a smile, trying to look reassured. "I guess... maybe I do stand a chance."

He beamed and stood up, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "That's my brave little girl. Now I'm going to get going, because I'm sure a few of your friends will want to see you." He left the room, holding the door open for Thalia's next visitors.

Up until then, she had managed to hold back tears. But when the three girls started sobbing about how she was going to die, it was too much. She would never come back to district 8, never see her dad or her friends ever again. She would have to kill innocent people, one of whom she even considered a friend...

"Guys, stop!" She yelled. "If you're going to whine about something that's about to happen to _me_, go somewhere else!"

Her friends looked shocked, but obliged. Cally went over to sit beside Thalia on the couch , wrapping her in a big hug. "I'm sorry" She said, "I know how hard this must be on you, and we're just making things worse."

Thalia bit her trembling bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and hugged Cally back, still trying valiantly not to cry.

"We'll try to sponsor you" Cally said, drawing away. The other two girls nodded vigorously. "We'll do everything we can, pay every last penny we have, I'm sure your dad will help too, he's super rich, and we'll find a way to get it to the capitol-"

"I doubt" Thalia cut her off "That I will be needing any more sponsors, I'll have plenty anyways, and you don't need to do that for me."

"But we have to do something!" She wailed. "You can't just ask us to sit back and do nothing while you fight for your life, I don't know what I'll do if you don't make it back!" The tears were back again, though Cally at least had the good grace to try to stop.

"Look, I appreciate everything, I really do, but I don't want to die knowing that my best friends in the world risked so much for me. Please, just promise you won't spend any money on me."

Neither of the three looked reassured. "I'm sure I'll have plenty of sponsors" She repeated, "Don't worry about me, I will be fine." She wished she were really as confident as she sounded.

"Fine" Cally agreed. She stood up, signaled for the other two to follow, and walked out of the room. They paused, each gave their friend one last hug, and left as well.

Thalia sighed, she knew that look. There was no way Cally would not sponsor her.

* * *

_Kaspian Peryte, 14 years old_

_Your tributes Kaspian Peryte and Thalia Morgan!..._ Cypress Kardell's voice rang in his ears as he sat in the comfy chair he had been given, replaying the reaping over and over again in his head. He was going into the hunger games despite all the precautions camp had taken. That, he could accept. Honestly, he could probably win, what with all the training he had gotten, but what worried him most was his district partner.

Yes, the person he was most worried about in the games was not a bloodthirsty career, but a sweet, innocent, beautiful fourteen- year- old girl. Never in his life had he so strongly wished he had never met someone. Because he could kill people. He didn't enjoy it, and tried not to, but he was perfectly fine killing someone he did not know, or better yet someone he hated. But he was one hundred percent certain that he would not be able to kill Thalia Morgan. He should be able to, she would have to die anyways if he wanted to make it back, but being the one to end her life... he could never do it. He wasn't willing to_ die_ for her, he still valued his own life above hers, but he considered her a good friend. Sometimes, he even secretly wished they were more than that. But none of that mattered anymore, because they were going into the hunger games and only one of them could come out alive.

Kaspian had expected the hour to be a long one, as his family lived so far away, but was grateful when a knock sounded on the door.

At first, he did not recognize the person that walked in. He was skinny, as were most children in district 8, and his clothes were clearly made from scraps of extra fabric. It took him a minute to place him, but Kaspian finally registered who it was: Blaize, his only friend in district 8. He only saw him every once in awhile, but they had been very close since they had been 7 years old. Kaspian felt bad about not recognizing him at first, though in his defense, he had been busy saving the world from Gaea the previous year.

He stood awkwardly in front of the door, his hands in his pockets. "So... I guess this is goodbye."

Kaspian nodded. He knew for a fact that he was Blaize's only friend. "Hope you do okay without me." He said.

Blaize looked down at the floor. "I just figured I should come visit you before you..." He trailed off, but Kaspian knew exactly what he had meant to say. _Die._ He was going to die. "I'll be rooting for you, just so you know."

Kaspian nodded again, and heard the _click_ of the door handle as it closed.

It took him no time at all to place the face of his next visitor. Wade Edenthaw was his best friend at camp. He was an energetic son of Hermes, and a troublemaker just like all his siblings. No one knew which district he came from since he never talked about it, but people respected that. Demigods usually had pretty rotten lives, especially in Panem, and so they gave him his space.

He crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite Kaspian's, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Two demigods from one district..." He said, awestruck, "That's crazy."

Kaspian agreed, but he was really not in the mood to talk about his district partner.

Wade cracked a smile and leaned over to punch his friend in the arm. "You like her, don't you?"

Kaspian rubbed his arm, that had _hurt._ "No, I don't" He snorted, trying to act as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

Wade rolled his eyes. "I don't believe it for a minute. You are way to obvious, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole camp knew."

His eyes widened. Oh no, _had_ he been obvious? What if she had known all along? He would never be able to live that down...

The triumphant look on Wade's face revealed that he had been caught. "Fine..." He mumbled "Maybe I did a bit, but it doesn't matter anymore."

His friend got up from his chair, still smiling like a maniac. "Sure it doesn't" He said sarcastically, and winked. "Good luck, Kaspian Peryte, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

And with that, he walked out of the small room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

District 9:

_Rhea Sage, 15 years old_

Rhea officially had the worst luck in Panem. Being reaped was bad enough, but she could deal with it. She had survived lots and risked death plenty of times, she was tough... sort of. Well, she was a demigod, and that counted for something, right? But going into the arena with her brother was an entirely different story. Even though they weren't technically related, they had been 1 year old when their parent had been married so they were pretty much as close to siblings as you could get.

The door opened softly and her dad - her real one - walked in. She wondered only for a moment why he was alone, but the pieces quickly fit together. Of course her mom had wanted to be alone with Keelan.

He looked bad, but that was no surprise. It must have been so hard on the family, to have both kids in the games. This way they could not even cheer for one, because it would mean the death of the other.

He knelt down in front of her chair, and looked up at her. "You know that... I can't choose between you two, but I do want you to try okay?"

Rhea nodded. She was scared. She was being forced to make so many choices all at once and it was overwhelming. If, somehow, she managed to live, it would mean the death of her brother and she could not take that, but it was not in her nature to give up.

"I want you to focus on winning," He continued, "Distance yourself from your brother and don't worry about him."

How was she supposed to do that? It was impossible. "But what if we're the last ones?"

He inhaled deeply. "The odds of that happening... are very slim."

It was a horrible thing to say, but he was right. And of course, she supposed that if it did happen, she would have to kill him anyways...

He stood up. "I'm going to leave now, okay? Good luck."

He walked out the door.

It took a surprisingly long time for her mother to come, but Rhea supposed she had just taken extra time with Keelan. Just as she was giving up all hope of companionship, the door opened.

She was a mess. Her blond hair was disheveled, her blue eyes wide and her cheeks tear-stained. She looked unsteady and faint. Rhea immediately jumped to her feet to help her mother into a chair.

She grabbed her hand. "You'll try your best, won't you?" She asked. Her voice was weak and drained of hope. "I know you, and you won't go down without a fight."

Rhea nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had given herself up for dead a long time ago, but her mom had scared her into trying. If she was killed, she would probably die of grief. She frantically searched her mind for a strength she could comfort her mom with.

"I'm a daughter of Demeter" She finally said, "I know plants and stuff, so I can survive, and camp taught me how to fight with a sword." It wasn't much, but it was true. Demeter's kids were notorious for being good with plants.

It was hard to read her mother's expression, but Rhea guessed that she had not been reassured. Coming to the conclusion that she was not getting anywhere, she helped her mom up and walked her to the door. She hated to do it, but it was for her own good.

She had just closed the door, not expecting any visitors, when it flew back open, hitting her in the face. She bent over, her nose bleeding freely, and heard the exclamation of shock as her offender realized what he had done.

"I am so, so sorry, I didn't know you were there!" He rushed to her side, but Rhea straightened up, holding her hand out to ward him away. It was Blythe, Keelan's lifelong best friend.

She wasn't too shocked to see him there, despite the fact that he would probably be cheering for her brother. They knew each other pretty well, he practically lived with them, he was so close to the family. He wasn't a demigod, but he could see through the mist, so he knew all about their adventures at camp half-blood.

Still, he was more Keelan's friend than hers, which made things slightly awkward.

"What are you doing here?" She asked the obvious question.

He fidgeted nervously and his eyes shifted to the carpeted floor. "Visiting you, of course." He laughed, but it came out strained.

Rhea nodded and looked away as well. She found a place to sit, but quickly got up as blood dripped onto the chair cushion. She resorted to standing, her hand still covering her nose. She hoped that she would not get into any trouble for staining the wonderful carpet.

"I'll be rooting for you," Blythe finally said, now watching her every move. "Just thought you should know."

Rhea snorted a laugh, but ended up messing up the carpet even more. Very ladylike. "No you won't," She said "You'll be cheering for Keelan every step of the way."

He shrugged. "Well, I'd like it if he came back, of course, but don't think that means I want you to die. I like you."

_As a little sister, not as a best friend_, she felt like adding, but decided against it. He reached over to ruffle her hair but drew back quickly, failing to hide the look of disgust that crossed his face.

He left the room, gently closing the door behind him. Rhea was starting to feel faint from loss of blood, and she began to search the room for a box of tissues.

* * *

_Keelan Sanders, 15 years old_

Keelan Sanders was terrified. He didn't show it, of course, but he had no idea how he would survive the next few days. Not to mention what might happen when he actually entered the arena, where the ways to die were much more varied than a simple heart attack. He wondered how he had managed to stumble upon such rotten luck: it was really like a slap in the face. First everything had been great "Wow, I'm a demigod, I get to fight monsters and forget about how messed up my childhood has been!" No tesserae, no volunteering, no matter what. Same thing for his sister.

But then he ends up thrust into the hunger games because of some sick, twisted idea the president had to ban careers. Okay, he could live with that. He was tough, he could get sponsors (especially female ones - he was irresistible), and though his death wouldn't exactly be noble, death in battle was considered a good thing and technically, the games were one giant battle. So whether they liked it or not, camp would have to honor his heroic demise even if it was brought on by an infection or even - the most likely scenario - pure stupidity on his part. But how could he possibly survive knowing that for every minute he lived, Rhea came closer to death? That he may need to witness her last moments, or even bring them on himself? Just the thought of it was enough to make him go mad. Another not-so-heroic possible death.

He was grateful for the distraction from his dark thoughts when the heavy oak door swung open and his best friend stepped in. He was a skrawny, slightly nerdy kid who had always looked younger than he was. Nobody had ever questioned their friendship, however, as it was so hard to make friends in rural district 9.

Blythe took a deep breath. "I'm going to make this quick," He said "because I want to go see your sister." Keelan nodded.

"Look, I saw you fight when that monster attacked us last year. I don't know if all demigods are that amazing, but you can sure as hell beat anyone in the arena. Well, maybe not the careers," he added at Keelan's disbelieving look. "But you at least stand a decent chance."

Keelan looked down at his hands resting on his lap.

"Rhea will be fine too," Blythe added. "She was named after the mother of the gods, don't underestimate her!"

Keelan could not help smiling at that. He knew that he had heard the name at camp before, but had not really paid much attention to it. He found it amusing that his friend knew more about greek mythology than he did, though most mortals were more interested in it than demigods were. Especially those who, like Blythe, could see through the mist.

He looked Keelan in the eye, making sure that he understood. "I'm going to go now, to see Rhea. One of you is going to come back, I guarantee it, understand? Because otherwise I will be very disappointed in the two of you."

Keelan did not find the joke funny. Blythe hadn't seen the others at camp, he didn't know anything about his chances.

The door was not closed for long after Blythe had left. It took less than a minute for Mrs. Sanders to enter the room, looking - if he was allowed to say this about his own mother - absolutely awful. Had he more energy, he would have gotten up to help her into her seat, but he was drained. He stayed seated.

"He thinks you can win, you know," she finally said, barely above a whisper. "Blythe"

"I know. Do you believe him?"

She stared at a spot on the wall over Keelan's head, but he got the impression she wasn't really seeing it. "I have to, don't I? It's the only way I'll be able to survive. cling to some wild hope that you'll both make it back."

Keelan swallowed a lump in his throat. They both knew very well that that was impossible; it had never been done, and never would be. But he didn't have the heart to remind her. He did not want to think of what would happen when both he and Rhea were killed.

The next thing he knew, his mother had left in tears and her spot had been taken by Keelan's stepdad. He did not even wait for the door to close behind him before he started talking.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your sister" He said in one breath.

Keelan braced himself for one of the long, inspiring speeches his dad was so good at, but was thoroughly disappointed. "Don't think about her" he said "Distance yourself. Forget that she even exists, and focus on your own survival, because only one of you is coming back."

Keelan shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. He didn't understand; what he was asking was impossible. They would be allies, there was no doubt about it. It would not feel right any other way.

His dad seemed to understand what he was thinking, as he sighed and leaned back against the door frame. "I get that you don't want her to die, but you have to think logically" he said "The games pit family, friends, lovers, everyone against each other and caring for an opponent enough to lay your life down for them is a huge weakness. Your chances of survival are so low that you just can't afford to think like that. Risking you life for someone... you just can't do it."

Keelan was shocked that his dad actually thought like that, but it did make sense... in a way. Still, there was one thing he was unclear about. "So you don't want me to make any alliances?" He could hear his voice rising in disbelief and fear, but he didn't care.

"No" Was the answer he got "Or at least don't get attached to them. Remember that they have to die if you are to survive and the sooner that happens, the better. Don't trust anyone. "

Keelan continued to stare at the door long after he had left, wondering just what - or rather, who - his stepfather had lost to the hunger games.

* * *

**A/N: 18 tributes down, 6 to go!**

**Sorry for the late update, school was absolutely crazy... like, I literally had to forget all other activities and focus on homework for a month, and it takes me awhile to write each chapter anyways. Oh, and then not to mention that I finished it, pressed some kind of keyboard combination and then accidentally deleted _everything_. Since I don't like doing those author's notes, I'll post any updates at the top of my page, so if you're really wondering what's going on you can look there.**

**Also, sorry if that part at the beginning with Thalia and Aegis was cheesy. I didn't do it because It was lazy, I did it because I wanted to pull a Cassandra Clare and make subtle connections through objects and people. Just clearing things up as I find it really annoying when FF authors act like the only magical objects that exist are the ones mentioned in the books.**

**Review, review, review! They keep me motivated! Oh, and vote on my poll: Who should win the 20th Annual Hunger Games? You can vote up to three times.**

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	9. Justice building districts 10, 11 and 12

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins or Rick Riordan (That applies to all the other chapters, I might have forgotten)**

District 10:

_Abigail Paige, 17 years old_

Abigail had not expected any visitors. The few friends she had were all either at camp or hiding in the woods, and none of them were human. She doubted her mother would visit her, as she had never really cared what Abigail did. She supposed it was because she was a constant reminder of Apollo, and of demigods, and that everything they had that she didn't. Of everything she had lost when the god had left her.

She figured that the hour she had would be the perfect time to think of the one thing she was most behind the other tributes on: Her area strategy. It was odd, but she had never really thought of the games as a real possibility. She had always lived in her own little world; be it in the woods, where she was alone and isolated, or at camp, where no one ever mentioned the games.

So what strengths could she use in the arena? She had natural skill with a bow, and trained with it often both at camp and at home. She had never really thought of using it against a person, though, it had always been simply a survival tool; either used for self-defense or to acquire food. Even during the battle against Gaea's army the previous year (for she had never been on any quests), she had only killed bloodthirsty monsters and had been fighting for a good cause.

There was always a first time for everything, though, and she supposed she would have to kill someone, for how else was she to get back home? She was certainly scared of the games, she would be crazy if she wasn't, but she was determined to win no matter what the price.

What else would give her an advantage? She had taught herself how to use a small knife, which certainly counted for something, though she wasn't particularly good. She also had good knowledge of plants and animals, and how to feed herself. The security wasn't great in district 10, and her mom often forgot to feed her.

So she could survive, she could hide, and she could kill from a distance, but in a fight she was totally hopeless. That was not only due to her inability to use most weapons, but also to her lack of physical strength. She supposed she was strong and fit enough, but compared to other demigods, or to the careers, she was nothing.

Sponsors were also completely out of the question. No one would ever spend a penny on her, she was sure of it. She was scrawny and messy-looking, and put no effort whatsoever into her appearance, though she supposed that would not be a problem in the capitol, what with the prep team and stylist she would be assigned. Still, one look at her would show everyone that she stood no chance at all unless she hid for the whole games, which was always incredibly boring. She was terrible around people, and preferred to spend her time alone. She got along okay with satyrs and nymphs, but never humans. She did not even need to consider the possibility of allies either, even if someone was stupid enough to want her. She was independent, and had never worked in a group before in her life.

Abigail supposed that with the odds in her favour, maybe she would be able to hide for awhile, though the chances of her winning were incredibly slim.

* * *

_Wytt Marsuul, 18 years old_

Wytt Marsuul, his dark hair falling into his face, looked down at the carpeted floor as his mother went over everything he should do in the arena.

The two were easily recognizable as mother and son: They both had the long, untidy black hair and the hard, brutal look in their eyes, the defined muscles, though they were incredibly different in build. Where one was thin with sharp features, her son was much broader, which was undoubtedly inherited from his father.

Wytt was tired of getting this speech over and over again. It was no wonder his mother had fallen for the god of war, because she was obsessed with violence. Of all the jobs available in district 10, she had decided to become a butcher, living just outside of town and killing animals for a living. She had been thrilled when Wytt had announced that he would be going to a "career training camp", and thoroughly disappointed when he had come back after only a week.

She was going over the best weapons, what to do in training, fighting strategies, and all the best ways to kill a person. Wytt wondered how she seemed to know all this, since she had never had any real training and only killed animals. Had she learned all this from watching the games? She must be very attentive, since the knowledge he had inherited from Ares told him that it was all correct. Maybe she had learned it all from him? Wytt found that he didn't really want to know.

He supposed he was excited for the hunger games. His mom had always wanted him to volunteer, and it just seemed right that he had been chosen this year. He had a better chance than any other district 10 tribute he could remember, though that was not saying much. He was strong, and good at hand-to-hand combat, he could use a gun, though he had never seen one of those in the arena. He was sure his amazing aim could carry through to other weapons, though. He could also use a lasso incredibly well, which would help him catch his victims.

Victims. It made him sound so brutal, like some kind of monster who killed for fun, not just because he had to. He supposed that that was what he was though, right? He had never been squeamish about ending another's life, even when he had been a little kid. Psychologically, he was ready for the hunger games. He had seen many tributes go mad at the first sight of blood, and he knew that that was not a risk for him. He knew that he would be able to get the job done quickly, without causing any more pain than was necessary. For that was the way that he worked: his cows were captured and led into the slaughterhouse, where they would be cleanly and painlessly shot before they even knew what was going on. He supposed that that same strategy would work in the arena.

"Wytt Marsuul, are you listening to me?" He was jolted awake by his mom's angry voice.

"Yes, yes of course."

"Good." She looked unconvinced. "Because what I am about to tell you is extremely important." He nodded. "The games are about much more than just killing things," She said. Wytt fought the urge to laugh at that ridiculous statement. "It's about publicity. You need to show those capitol people what you're made of, make sure they know that you are going to win. Exaggerate that interview if you need to, and profit well from the training. In fact, it might even be a good idea for you to join the career pack." She waited for him to signal that he understood, then left the room.

He had never really considered joining the careers. He had always thought them a pretty exclusive group, way too good for him, and very untrustworthy as well. But now that he thought about it, maybe they would make good allies. They would protect him for awhile, though it would be crucial that he leave them at the right time, and if he impressed them enough in training... Yes, that would be a good idea.

* * *

District 11:

_Leila Edelweiss, 16 years old_

Leila was not scared. She was not angry. She was not surprised. She fully deserved to die in the hunger games.

For she was a terrible person, and she had committed an unforgivable crime: She had let her siblings take out tesserae, thus increasing their chances of being reaped. It was perfect that she had been chosen instead of any of them, for she saw it as a way to redeem herself and to ease her conscience. Whether or not she won, maybe there was a chance she would not be sent to the fields of punishment.

Leila sighed, frustrated, as she sat back in her chair. She rarely thought of that awful camp half-blood and everything she had learned during the 24 hours she had spent there, though the subject of the underworld did cross her mind often.

The door burst open and Cecelia Nightshade stumbled in. Her cheeks were red and wet, the result of tears that were still streaming down her face.

She flattened herself against the door, struggling to breathe through the sobs. Without even a greeting, she began to talk.

"What have you been hiding from me?" She said.

"Nothing, what are you-"

"You know perfectly well what I am talking about." She snapped, cutting her off "You supposedly don't take out any tesserae, yet your family seems perfectly fine, then you get reaped, what the hell is going on?" Her voice rose until she was yelling by the end.

Leila's voice sounded weak when she finally spoke. "I... I refused to take out any tesserae. My dad understood, and my eligible siblings all took on the job."

Cecelia looked totally shocked. She stared at her friend, wide-eyed, mouth open, for a few minutes before she finally spoke.

"No... you wouldn't... I know you, Leila, and you would never do such a thing."

"But I did. I'm not lying, trust me" It was true, though she had left out a crucial detail. No one could know about that, though, it was strictly confidential.

She took a deep breath. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Since I turned thirteen. We had one year without any tesserae before Ethan turned twelve."

Cecelia still looked like she was struggling to find her voice. "You lied to me."

"No, I did not." Leila said, getting defensive, "I certainly never lied to you. I told you how much tesserae I had taken when I was twelve, and after that you just took everything for granted. Trust me, I would never have lied to you."

"But... Why would you do that? I thought you cared about your siblings, that you would do anything for them!"

"Almost anything" She whispered

"I can't believe it... How..." She shook her head slowly, disbelieving.

"You hate me, don't you? Good, it'll be easier on you when I die." Leila said. It was true that distancing herself from her friends would make everything much easier on everyone.

"Leila!" She yelled "We've been best friends since we were seven years old, of course I don't hate you! But please forgive me if I'm a little shocked that you've been hiding so much from me!" She stopped, as she had started crying again. When she continued, her voice was barely above a whisper "This just doesn't sound like you, Leila. I told you everything, and I thought you did the same, and I know that you would never do such a thing." When Leila did not answer, but simply looked down at the floor, she left the room in tears.

Leila had no time to reflect on what she had done before the door was opened again and her entire family spilled into the room. Her dad looked quizzically out the door before closing it, then back to her, his eyebrows raising in a silent question.

"She's upset that I'm leaving" Leila said. It was funny how she was lying right after being accused of doing the exact same thing.

Melodie immediately climbed onto her lap, though at eight years old she was getting a bit big for that. She was just old enough to understand the games, but young enough that the reality of them hadn't quite sunken in yet. Leila hugged her back, though she felt guilty. She didn't deserve their affection.

The rest of the family took seats close to her, except for Ethan, who stood off to the side, looking out the window. He had been hostile to her during the past three years, since he had learned that he would have to take out so much tesserae. He had never objected, however, which proved how much he cared for his family.

"So I guess this is goodbye" her father said. She nodded. The women in her father's life tended to desert him; first Athena had left him, though he had been quick to remarry. Then her stepmother had died, and after that he had kind of given up hope. Now he would just have to hope that Leila made it back and was able to sustain the family with her winnings.

It had been like a cruel joke when she had found out who her mother really was, and what she would have to do because of it. If she was a daughter of Athena, why hadn't she thought of another way to keep her family alive? Why were they starving, living off scraps, when any day she could leave them and enjoy the luxury of camp? Why couldn't she share anything with them? But most of all, if she was so smart, then why was she incapable of thinking of another way to keep her loved ones alive?

"What are we going to do without you?" Raine asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh, you'll be better off. One less mouth to feed." she answered.

The effect was immediate. Every single person gasped and turned to look at her, shocked at what she had just said.

"That is not true!" Her father said "You do more work than anyone in this family, you get up at the crack of dawn and don't come back until sundown, you even steal when you can!"

"But I don't take out any tesserae" Leila whispered, ashamed

"And that is perfectly understandable! We can't expect you to do everything, you know."

"Ethan does both" She argued calmly

"And that's his choice. I don't know why you're so determined to be like this, but we need you more than you're letting on and that is why you have to come back. We have two options here: it's either starvation or wealth, and our future depends on your survival." He picked up Melodie from her lap, and ushered the other 3 kids out of the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

_Archer Caladium, 16 years old_

Archer could honestly say that he was excited for the Hunger Games. He knew that his chances weren't great, but what did he have to lose? His life at home pretty much sucked, and now he at least knew what came after death. Not that he had a shot at Elysium, but it was nice to know what would happen, rather than wondering all the time. This way, he could push the fear of dying to the back of his mind and focus on winning the games.

For he figured he had a decent chance. He was certainly strong from all that time in the fields, and had had lots of practice defending himself against his dad. He could fight hand - to - hand and his father had taught him all the different ways to kill a man. How he had acquired all that information, Archer had no idea. He also had no qualms about killing people - in fact, he was rather looking forward to that part. He just loved the thrill of causing someone pain, that feeling of power, and actually killing them must be even better.

Admittedly, he had not had much experience with weapons, but how hard could that be? He would learn a bit in the training center, and the crown would be his. It was too bad that his godly parent had not left him with any special powers, that would have been even better.

He jumped as the door burst open and Archer's father stormed in. He was a tall, burly man with dark skin and wild black hair. What Demeter - or any woman, really - saw in him was beyond Archer's comprehension.

"What the hell just happened?" He yelled, slamming the door shut behind him and beginning to pace. "Those capitol idiots, prancing around, thinking they can control everyone, I hate them! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them!" He knocked over a chair and yelled a few choice swear words. Archer's eyes flitted nervously to the door, expecting peacekeepers to arrive at any moment.

"And you" he growled, pointing at Archer "You'd better win this thing, boy, or-"

"Or what?" He snorted, sitting back in his seat. "I'll be dead anyways, what can you do to me?"

A muscle twitched near his nose, and his voice lowered to a deadly calm. "You dare contradict me? So you plan on going off into those games and dying, just to get your way? I don't know what went wrong with you education, but you, kid, are a disgrace to this family!" He punched him squarely in the jaw and Archer, unprepared, fell to the ground. He got right back up, though, and retaliated with a blow to the stomach.

He realized all too late what a big mistake he had made, as his father hit him in the side, tackled him to the ground, and proceeded to repeatedly punch him in the face.

He tasted blood. He couldn't see anymore. He felt himself slowly sinking into unconsciousness. _This is the end,_ he thought,_ I will die as I had always thought I would; by my father's hand._

Suddenly, three things happened at once: He heard the door burst open, followed by the sound of footsteps, a gunshot sounded, and his father went limp on top of him.

* * *

District 12:

_Melanite Endeine, 17 years old_

Melanite felt eerily calm. Was she not supposed to be scared of the hunger games? Was there something wrong with her? Maybe it was her dad that had given her this inhuman ability to face death fearlessly. Or could it have been her mom? She had, quite literally, befriended the god of the underworld, maybe she had some special power as well...

Whatever it was, she was thankful for it. She had seen the tributes of previous years practically go mad from fear, completely losing their minds and forgetting everything else and she was glad to be different from them.

Different. She heard the word almost every day, it was certainly the best way to describe her. She was far from being a merchant, but she didn't belong in the seam either. Her mother was purely district 13 in appearance, but Melanite had something else as well... just a touch of Hades in her eyes, her hair, and a shadow of him in her facial features. She could do things, weird things that scared her to death, but camp hadn't been the place for her either. she was different, shockingly so, than even the other children of Hades.

She had never thought it a good thing. She had never had a single friend in her life, but she wondered now if it would help her out in the games. She had guessed from videos of the capitol that they valued originality, and maybe they would be more likely to sponsor a girl who stood out from the crowd. And despite what other people might think, sponsors were incredibly important.

Maybe she did stand a chance in the games. She knew that she would have no problem killing another person. She didn't know why people were so squeamish about that anyways; it wasn't that big of a deal. Death was just another endless adventure, much more exciting than the one they were living at the moment. Unless, of course, you were sent to the fields of punishment, but Melanite never liked to consider that possibility. In fact, most people would consider even that a relief from the nightmares they were experiencing in the games.

She was not in the least bit surprised when the door opened and her mother stepped in. She had always admired her mom, looked up to her as a wonderful role model, and she had always wished she were more like her. Today her straight brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and her gray eyes were cool and expressionless. Everything about her appearance: from the way she held her head to her relaxed stance, said that she was calm and collected, and that she would not let this get to her.

She smiled sadly at the sight of her daughter, and walked over to give her a hug, though she pulled away quickly to look her in the eyes. Melanite drew herself up to stand a little taller, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

"Don't be scared, Melanite, you can win this." she said "You're better than the others and you know it."

She bit her lip to stop the sudden urge to cry, and nodded.

"Make these games quick and easy." She continued, not bothering with a farewell speech of any sort. "Find one useful ally that you can trust, and hide, wait the games out. You know what to do if you're the last ones?"

Melanite nodded again. "I kill my ally without thinking, without hesitation, and I put it behind me, because it was necessary and couldn't be avoided." she recited.

"Exactly. Profit from training, and grab a useful weapon from the cornucopia. It doesn't have to be the best one, but as long as you can use it, you will be fine. Got it?"

"Yes, mother"

"Good, now good luck in the games." She kissed the top of her head and stalked out of the room, pausing only once to shoot a reassuring smile at her daughter.

Melanite sat back into her chair. She wondered if spending more time at camp half-blood would have helped her chances in the arena. If she should have taken her mother's advice and stayed there, learning from them. No, she thought, she had made the right decision. Camp could teach her sword fighting, but her mother knew about plants and animals, how to survive in the wilderness, all things that she had taught herself after fleeing thirteen. Of course, camp would have taught her how to use her powers, but she had a feeling she didn't really want to learn that. Besides, they had done enough for her already.

Carefully, she reached up and removed her earrings, placing them side by side on her knees. They were identical: each made up of a single blood red gem, with a light silver chain attaching it to a miniature sword. One was a fairly normal looking sword with a black hilt, while the other was an exact copy, though made of celestial bronze. This one would not do her any good in the arena, though it would at least scare the other tributes.

Finding the clips, she detached each sword from the rest of the earring, and they both grew in size until they were two small, light swords balanced perfectly in her hands. The half-bloods at camp had warned her that it took a very skilled fighter to use two swords at once without impaling oneself, but she had taken them anyway. She was still quite uncoordinated with them, but they intrigued her for some reason, she liked the feeling of power that having a weapon in each hand gave her. She had practiced, alone, in the woods and taught herself how to use them, and she planned to profit well from the training center. Her mom had always wanted her to take up the bow, since she was particularly good with it, but Melanite had never really liked it. The sword was her weapon of choice, and her mom knew a little about how to use it. She had taught her simple moves at home using big sticks as they had no real weapons to practice with. Melanite had taken the swords out a few times to hunt when no one was around, but they were very big things that made a big mess, and she had always come home with bloody, chopped up carcasses that tended to arouse suspicion. Besides, she had had to get close to the animals to kill them, which had been nearly impossible.

This was why these swords would be the perfect weapon for her when she entered the arena. She could hide them and take them out easily (She practiced all the time) and she would only use them if she were attacked. She could set up snares or make herself a bow for food, and she would be perfectly fine.

She hooked the earrings back onto the rings at the butt of each sword. They shrunk down to the appropriate size and she put them back in her ears. She supposed that she had a decent chance at becoming district twelve's first ever victor, she was certainly better than all their past tributes. Maybe with the odds in her favour... but she shouldn't think of that just yet. She should take these games one step at a time, which meant that for now she had to focus on not getting motion sick on the train.

* * *

_Andrew Jackson, 13 years old_

Andrew Jackson was pretty much already dead. He didn't know why the capitol had to make him go through the whole humiliating process of preparing him for the games when everyone knew perfectly well that he was going to die in the bloodbath.

He was small. He was thin. He was weak. He could be literally snapped in two by just about any other tribute. Not to mention that he had absolutely no knowledge of plants or how to survive in the wild and no one in their right mind would ever sponsor him or want him for an ally.

He did not have much time to think - or rather, wallow in self-pity, because the door flew open and his mother rushed into the room, picked him up and spun him around before setting him back down on the ground. She was clearly ecstatic at the prospect of his fate, smiling like mad, positively giddy with excitement.

"I am so proud of you! Finally, the family will get the fame and fortune we deserve!" she squealed. She had washed most of the dirt and grime off her face, but her hair remained suspiciously short, cut so that she could disguise herself in order to work in the mines.

Andy rolled his eyes. "I hate to break it to you, mom, but there is no way I am _ever_ coming back."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "That is not a winning attitude Andy. What makes you think you're going to die?"

He sighed, irritated. "Well, first there's the fact that district 12 has never had a victor, ever. Then-"

"There's a first time for everything" she snapped.

"Yes, " he continued "but I don't think a thirteen year old has ever won before, and certainly never one with no skills-"

"Andy!"

"What? It's true!"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously just as annoyed with her son as he was with her. "I would hate to think that all that training you got at camp was for nothing. You are a demigod, there's no way you _can't_ win!" she said

"Actually, there is" he replied "I'm actually not that good at fighting and don't know anything about survival." Why didn't she understand?

She shook her head and shot him a disbelieving look. "You have special powers, don't you? And I refuse to believe that that camp did not train you properly for the games."

"Oh, they trained me" he said, standing up straighter "Just for fighting monsters, not for the games, it's completely different. For quests, they give us all this magical stuff and supply us properly."

Having used her last argument, she finally gave in. "Alright, I guess you won't win. But at least I won't have to feed you for the week you have off anymore." And with that... wonderful statement, she walked out of the room.

Andy stared angrily at the door after her departure. What kind of mother was she? She didn't care one bit whether he lived or died, except that his winning would mean that she would become rich. She had gladly given him up to camp Half-Blood without even the slightest idea what it was, just wanting to be rid of him.

And yet, he couldn't help thinking of what she had said. Did he really stand a chance? He could use a spear pretty well, and could probably figure out how to make one. On top of that, he was a whiz with machines and tools, and understood even the most complicated snares. He knew basic battle strategy, so maybe he would do okay with a good ally- if he could ever find one.

Still, he seriously doubted all that would be enough to keep with from being killed in the Hunger Games.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, finished with the justice building too! Now on to the capitol.**

**Please review and vote on my poll! Seriously guys, I need help deciding on a winner because I like all my tributes!**

**Also, I know that this is a bit late but in reply to Guest who asked "Where the heck os percy jackson?!" Even though this is a story about the Percy Jackson series, I did not use the original characters and instead invented my own, so Percy is not in this story.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!**


	10. Arrival in the Capitol

**A/N: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

Citrine Opal's wildest dreams had finally been realized. She was in the Capitol. _The_ Capitol. After being denied access her entire life she was finally here and it was even better than she had imagined!

Huge buildings towered over her; some made of glass, others in bright colours, she even saw one that was completely covered in peacock feathers. There were stores everywhere selling every fashion accessory imaginable, and some that she had never even thought existed.

And the _people. _Never in all her life had she ever seen such bold fashion choices and she loved it. The colours, the gems, the feathers, everything about these people was spectacular. Citrine knew automatically that this was where she wanted to live. The victor's village in 1 had always called to her, but this amazing place made it look positively shabby and plain. After she won, she would have to talk to the president about her living arrangements.

She turned to Quartz, who was standing to her left, also waving at the capitol. "It's amazing, isn't it?" she breathed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he saw this view every day. "I guess."

She raised her perfect eyebrows, disbelieving. "You _guess?_ And where in Panem have you been that's better than this place?"

He turned to face her, giving her his full attention, and she was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She supposed that that was exactly the effect he had been going for. "It just doesn't suit my taste" he answered, taking a step toward her. "And I'm pretty sure you know exactly which place is my favourite."

She shook her head, confused. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Actually" He answered, grinning cockily, "I think you do. I've seen your eyes, princess, and that's enough to confirm my suspicions. You're a demigod, like me. A daughter of Aphrodite."

The phrase was so simple, and he said it in such a casual voice, but it knocked the wind out of her. She was so shocked, so terrified, that she did something she never thought she would ever do - she took a step _away_ from a hot guy. She gripped the windowsill to steady herself. No one was supposed to know about her heritage. It was a secret she had left behind her a long time ago.

"How... how did you..." She racked her brain, trying to remember who he was and why he seemed to familiar. Finally, she found her answer. "Quartz Ametrine" She whispered "Son of Zeus, leader of four quests, best fighter at camp, hero of Olympus."

He grinned, clearly pleased with her response. "Actually, it's six now, I'm also the hero of the second Gaean war, and I've been at camp longer than any other demigod. So what does that mean?" He lowered his voice to a deadly growl and stepped toward her again. "I _always_ win. I was the star at camp, and I'm going to be the star of these games." He grabbed her arm and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Enjoy your last days, Princess."

Then he spun on his heel and and walked down the aisle to his room.

Citrine turned back to the window, put on her most dazzling smile, and continued to wave at the crowd, but her heart wasn't in it anymore. After a few minutes, she too gave up and turned away, craving the peace and quiet of her own room.

* * *

She didn't like this guy, the thought as she sat on her bed, brushing her hair. He unnerved her, with his overly confident attitude and the way he seemed to look right through her. It was like he knew all her deepest secrets at first glance.

Once she got into the arena, she decided with finality, she would kill him in his sleep. He was way too dangerous.

A loud knock sounded on the door and Citrine recognized the familiar voice of her escort, Sparkle. "Come on, we're almost at the training center!" she squealed "Ivy told me to get you!"

With a yelp, Citrine jumped off her bed and rushed to her mirror, checking to make sure that she looked absolutely perfect for the capitol. She blanched, horrified, at her reflection. The make-up that hadn't worn off was horribly smudged and her mascara had started running (Had she been crying? She hadn't noticed). On top of all that, the stress of everything had caused her skin to break out.

She was a fashion disaster.

Panicking, Citrine began to tear her room apart in search of any make-up the capitol might have supplied, when an idea suddenly struck her.

She was so stupid. Why had she never thought of that before? All those times she had freaked out about minor problems when the answer was so obvious. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and visualized her face as she had just seen it. She concentrated on fixing every little blemish, reapplying the cosmetics, even restyling her hair, so that she looked good as new. She then opened her eyes, suddenly much more tired than she should have been. Nonetheless, she ran eagerly to the mirror, crossing her fingers and - for the first time ever - praying to her mom that everything would be alright.

Her face was perfect. Who knew that demigod powers could come in handy in her day-to-day life? She ran out the door, nearly colliding with her mentor. "I'm ready for the capitol!" She sang, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

It was then that Ivy Monroe ran up to the two of them, smiling excitedly, Quartz right behind her. "Wonderful! Now the whole team is here! Come this way, Citrine, It's time to introduce you to the Capitol!

* * *

As soon as Citrine stepped off the train, she was blinded by the flash of a gazillion cameras at once. She squinted only for a moment though, as she quickly got her bearings and plastered her most glamorous smile onto her face.

She walked slowly down the red carpet, waving and smiling at the crowd, blowing kisses and winking. She was thrilled when the cheered loudly for her.

Though she quickly found out that she was not the only center of attention. Quartz was a few paces behind her, and the capitol citizens appeared to be just as intrigued by him as they were by her. They screamed wildly and women fought to get to him, in the hopes that they would get a chance to touch him. Citrine had to admit that he looked amazing in that fancy suit, his hair perfectly styled...

She walked a little closer to the crowd, shaking their hands, and men did seem quite interested in her, as were a few of the women. Some of them, however, shot her dirty looks and scooted away as their boyfriends drooled over her.

Feeling smug, she looked over to see how Quartz was doing. She saw him lean over and kiss one lucky woman on the cheek. The lady fainted, and the others crowded around him even more eagerly.

Furious, she turned back to her fans, and did the same to one young man. His reaction was the same as the woman's, and the others also crowded around her, but she turned away from them and continued walking.

She discovered the trick after that: she would find a random person in the crowd, and wink at them, shoot them a seductive smile. For the rest of the crowd, she would continue with her waving and hand shaking.

* * *

The walk from the train to the training center was much too short. All too soon, Citrine found herself in a big building, being ushered to an elevator as her escort babbled on about everything she knew about it.

She was thankful that the elevator ride was so short, and she did not have to hear the escort's annoying voice for long. She soon found herself walking into the first floor of the training center, where she would be staying. Her jaw dropped. It was absolutely beautiful. She walked slowly, her neck craned, trying to take in everything at once. The high ceiling, the huge windows, the colourful sofas and armchairs, and the huge mahogany table positively groaning under her next meal. Citrine wondered how much all this had cost. She was used to big, beautiful buildings, but this... this was something else entirely.

She felt a hand on her back, pushing her down a hallway just as exquisitely decorated as the main room. "Come on, there's no time to waste, your prep team will be here any moment!" Ivy chirped, pushing her into a room on the right.

* * *

As it turned out, Ivy had been wrong about the prep team being almost there. They were _already_ there. Two men and a woman, whom Citrine did not care to know the names of, started ripping off her clothing almost as soon as the door closed. She was pretty used to this, she tended to have that effect on people, though it was odd to just stand still, stark naked, while people circled around her, taking in every aspect of her body and pointing out each of its few flaws.

They seemed quite pleased with her, and took almost no time at all transforming her to "Beauty base zero".

"There's no need to do much with you, sweetheart," one said "You're already so pretty, and you clearly take good care of yourself."

Citrine wondered how well Quartz was doing.

* * *

Her stylist was possibly the most fashionable woman she had ever met. Her skin was hot pink, and her hair was bright blue, piled precariously on top of her head. Her dress was made entirely out of multicoloured feathers and her heels were about 30 centimeters high. She shooed the prep team out of the room, walked a few circles around Citrine, and sat down, motioning for her to do the same.

Citrine picked up her robe, pulled it around herself, and sat down across from her stylist, who began to talk right away.

"So, your outfit for the parade."

* * *

**A/N: Review please, and vote on my poll!**

**My friend and I have created a website for book and fanfiction recommendations and reviews. For anyone interested, here is the link (just replace the dots with .)**

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**In response to both guests who reviewed: I was already planning on writing from only the POVs of a few tributes from now on, I just wanted to do the reaping and justice building for each tribute. The next chapter will be the opening ceremonies from a completely different POV. Thanks anyways, though!**

**On that note, Who's POV would you like to see more of in this fic?**


	11. Opening Ceremonies

**Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins or Rick Riordan**

* * *

Cassiterite Speedwell was beyond excited. Thanks to the amazing luck she had had the previous year, she was now filthy rich and, for the first time ever, able to bet on and sponsor tributes. As soon as the tickets had gone on sale, she had jumped at the opportunity and bought first row seats for both the tribute parade and the interviews.

She heard a loud knock on the door, and jumped up from her sofa, turning off the T.V. She ran to the door, careful not to trip in her heels, and opened it eagerly. There, standing on the doorstep, was Meli, her very best friend in the world. As they had planned, the girls were wearing matching dresses, shoes, stockings, wigs, nails, eyebrows, eyelashes, whiskers, make-up, and had had plastic surgery to alter their eye colour. The only difference between them was that Meli was completely decked out in Pink, while Cassie was in turquoise.

Both girls squealed and hugged, then went back into the house, where Cassie closed the door.

"I _love_ your outfit!" They both exclaimed at the same time, then burst into fits of giggles.

"Seriously though, this was such a good idea!" Cassie said "We look awesome, and we're matching!"

"I know, right?" Meli said, then, lowering her voice, "Who do you think you're gonna sponsor this year?"

Cassiterite smiled at how grown-up that sounded. Finally, they had enough money that they could spend it on tributes. "Oh, I don't know" she said "I guess a career would be the best choice, though, right?"

Meli rolled her pink eyes dramatically, sighing. "But betting and sponsoring are two different things, you know."

"Yes, I know. But we should sponsor the tributes we think will win."

Once again, Meli acted like her friend was the dumbest person alive. "No," she said, enunciating each word carefully "You sponsor the tribute you _want_ to win, to help them. You _bet_ on the tribute you think is most likely to beat the others."

"But what about the party during the victory tour?" She asked, becoming more and more annoyed with her friend.

She paused, clearly having not thought about that possibility. Cassie smiled smugly. "Fine then" she said "We'll find something in between."

Cassie had just opened her mouth to retort with something along the lines of "I told you so", but got a glimpse of her clock at the corner of her eye. "Oh my god, look at the time!" she exclaimed, "We need to go, now!" She dragged her friend out the door and into her neon green convertible. They took off at full speed for the center of town.

* * *

The traffic was terrible, but luckily they had given themselves plenty of time, and they listened to the radio along the way. Soon enough, they had found a parking spot close to the training center, and had taken off in search of their seats.

As it turned out, even the front row was elevated off the ground, probably so that they could see the tributes properly. This was convenient, but meant that the girls had to climb a few stairs, which was no easy feat in the heels they were wearing. Cassie made a mental note to wear flats the next year.

Finally, when it appeared they would just have to sit on the ground, a young security guard with crimson hair and lots of tatoos found his way over to them. "May I help you two ladies with anything?" He asked, completely oblivious to their giggling at the sight of him.

"Of course," Cassie said, "We were just trying to get up these stairs so that we could watch the parade. You know, so that we know which tributes to sponsor."

"Oh yeah" Meli added "I sponsored the winner last year, the party is amazing!" This was a total lie, but if it helped them impress the security guard...

He gave them a strange look, but helped them walk up the endless flight of five stairs, sitting them in their seats and wishing them a good time at the parade. With a curt nod, he continued to patrol the area, leaving the girls exhausted and gasping for breath from the physical exertion, but still excited. "What a gentleman" Cassie said dreamily, staring at his retreating form.

"I know" Meli replied in the same tone. "You know what?" she asked, still staring at him.

"What?" Cassie asked

"I'm kinda thirsty." She said. There was a pause.

"You know, me too. I think I saw a store a few meters back that was selling flavoured water. I could really go for some of that."

Then both of their coloured eyes widened in horror as realization sank in. They whipped around to face each other and both said, at the same time, "You buy it!"

* * *

In the end, it was Meli who was forced to get up to buy the drinks, and Cassie watched with contentment as she struggled to push through the crowd. Meanwhile, the event was scheduled to start in but a few minutes. She felt a rush of excitement at that thought. Here she finally was, all her wildest dreams come true. For the first time ever, after fantasizing about it her whole life, she was not sitting at home watching the event on television. She was really here, mere inches away from where the chariots would be passing in only a few minutes.

Right after Meli found her seat (Helped by a very unattractive blue-skinned lady) and had handed her her drink, President Snow appeared on the giant screens alongside Caesar Flickerman, announcing the start of the tribute parade.

"Ladies and Gentlemen" Boomed Claudius Templesmith "The tributes of the 20th Annual Hunger Games!"

The girls screamed along with the crowd, standing up with no regard for the people behind them, as the giant doors were opened. In an explosion of fireworks, the first chariot emerged.

The tributes of district 1 looked like they were worth a few million dollars. They were both dressed in loose clothing almost completely covered by the abundance of jewels decorating them. Pearls, Diamonds, with the occasional flash of colour, the tributes were like giant disco balls, with gems flying all over the place in their wake. Cassiterite tried to catch as many as possible. The girl was positively glowing, and Cassie was instantly jealous of her beauty, but the boy... wow. His huge muscles were prominent as he waved at the crowd, and he was gorgeous, even more so than he had seemed at the reaping. She would definitely consider sponsoring him.

The crowd's attention was quickly diverted as district 2's chariot emerged. Where district 1 had been aiming for beauty, district 2 had clearly decided to portray their tributes as dangerous, bloodthirsty careers by dressing them in greek-style battle armour, complete with fake weapons (At least, she hoped they were fake). They honestly scared the hell out of just about everyone in the crowd. They were obviously in it to win, and fully expected to come back. The girl looked positively savage, but the boy just looked antisocial as he glared at the capitol. He actually made eye contact with Cassie and Meli, sending them a particularly loathsome look. Well, one thing was for sure: they would most certainly not be spending any money on him.

Cassiterite barely payed attention to the 3rd chariot. They were covered in some sort of electrical wires, very flashy, and actually better than usual. But she didn't really care about them, because the boy was skrawny and the girl was 12 years old. She continued to watch the other districts.

Both tributes from district 4 were dressed as merpeople, with shiny fish tails. They were covered in seaweed and shells, and the boy's chest was bare. They both waved and smiled at the crowd, despite the girl's obvious discomfort in her revealing costume, though neither looked like they really stood any chance. The boy was a little ball of energy, jumping up and down, waving to the crowd, so much that Cassie worried that the chariot might tip over. His district partner seemed totally undaunted by him, not even sparing him the slightest glance as she took in the capitol with huge eyes.

District 5 looked absolutely pitiful with bright yellow outfits and light bulbs on their heads. Where the other districts had been bright and radiant, this one just hurt the eyes. The girl was trying to look happy, clearly enjoying the crowd, but she just looked terrible in that outfit. The boy actually looked pretty cute, she remembered him from the reaping, but the costume just ruined it... she would have to watch him in the interviews. Though with a stylist that bad, her hopes were not high.

Both girls actually burst out laughing at the sight of the next chariot. The tributes were _trains,_ complete with the most ridiculous hats she had ever seen. They even had headlights. The girl tried to appear friendly, but just came off incredibly nervous and out of place, clearly not at ease with so many people staring at her. The boy stared straight ahead, sullen and hostile, not a very exciting victor. There was no way either of them would get any money from her.

District 7 was trees, as always, and Cassie was still shocked by how _small_ that girl was. How on earth was she 12 years old? While the boy was clearly nervous and slightly intimidated, the girl actually seemed confident, happy even. She must be a really good actress.

She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but something about district 8 caught Cassie's attention. They stood closer together than the others did, and the boy kept looking to his district partner for reassurance. Maybe they knew each other? The girl looked absolutely fabulous even in the hideous patchwork they called a costume, and was clearly comfortable being the center of attention. The boy was less at ease, smiling and waving nervously, glancing at the screens from time to time. Not a serious competitor.

The District 9 tributes looked surprisingly good in their outfits made of grain. They were a bit plain for Cassie's taste, without any colour, but they actually looked decent in them. The girl looked good enough, though certainly not a winner, and the boy... wow, he was adorable! With that cheeky, mischievous smile... She would have to watch him. It wasn't until the chariot passed her and she got a glimpse of their backs that she realized something- the tributes were holding hands.

District 10 was also a fierce contender... for the title of worst costume ever. They were cows. _Cows_, with black and white unitards and cow head hats on their head. When they raised their hands, it was revealed that they were wearing gloves that looked like hooves. They even had cowbells around their necks. Both stood far apart in the carriage, waving halfheartedly at the crowd. No wonder, Cassie thought, considering how bad they looked.

It appeared that District 11 actually had some decent stylists this year as the tributes emerged completely decked out in fruit. The girl, with a crown of berries adorning her head, smiled radiantly and blew kisses at the crowd, while the boy stared straight ahead, completely oblivious to the adoring capitol citizens. Both actually looked like they might be competitors, but neither really suited Cassie's fancy.

As always, district 12 was dressed up as hideous coal miners, with suits and hard hats and everything. If that was what they actually had to wear in 12, Cassie pitied them. Those outfits were hideous! Both tributes were the usual scrawny, underfed little things, clearly trying desperately to please the crowd and rack up a few sponsors. Actually, upon closer speculation, the girl looked like she might stand a chance... she looked tall and strong enough, while the boy was just small. He was a definite bloodbath, but her... Cassie would have to pay close attention to her interview.

When the tributes disappeared out of sight, the girls sat down and watched the rest of the event on the televisions. The tributes wound through the city to adoring crowds, finally stopping in front of the president. He made a long, boring speech welcoming the tributes that Cassie pretended to listen to with rapt interest, when really she was just watching the tributes. Some seemed to be genuinely interested, like the boy from four, but others were totally bored. Most of the careers would clearly rather be elsewhere and some, like the girl from five that had seemed perfectly at ease only a few minutes previously, looked positively terrified.

Soon, he finished talking and she felt a nudge at her side. She turned to see Meli, motioning with her head that they should leave. The event was over, but still... she was just so excited, she didn't really want to leave the square. "Why don't we go to the mall?" she suggested, yelling over the crowd.

Meli's eyes lit up at this, and she squealed, nodding vigorously. They got up and walked sideways down the isle, until they reached the end, where they were met with a problem.

They would have to walk down the stairs.

Carefully, and clinging onto both each other and the railings, they moved down step by step, holding up the crowd behind them wishing to pass. "Just take off the damn shoes!" One lady yelled. They both gasped. She did not understand how important it was that they keep their foootwear on, how mortifying it would be to take them off, how hideous they would look without their gorgeous shoes, how the pavement would damage their feet...

They kept walking, until they finally reached the ground. From there, they ran to Cassie's car, jumped in, and took off for the mall, all the while chatting away about the day's events.

* * *

**A/N: School's out! So expect the updates to be incredibly irregular from now on. There will be updates just about every day for awhile, then none at all for a few weeks, and so on.**

**Once again, tell me whose POV you want to see more of. Also, if anyone has some good names for Capitol Citizens, I would greatly appreciate it since I'm running out!**

**Please review, vote on my poll, visit my site and have a wonderful summer vacation!**

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	12. Training: Day 1

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

Jayana Combe stood awkwardly in the hallway outside her tribute's door, tapping her foot irritatingly. "Hurry up!" She called at the top of her voice, not caring who she woke up. "You'll miss the training if you don't get your butt out of-" The door flew open and her female tribute, Skyler Woods, stepped out, glaring at her.

"Do you really have to wake up the whole building? I was getting ready! I'll bet you took a whole lot longer than that this morning."

Jayana rolled her eyes. She had gotten to know Skyler in the last few days, and she knew that she cared _nothing_ about her appearance. The girl hadn't even brushed her hair! However...

"Are you wearing _makeup_?" She asked, shocked.

She glared at her, and Jayana suddenly realized what a bad idea that had been. But thankfully, she didn't react violently. "You think I was going to show my face with those stupid freckles?" she snapped.

"Okay, whatever" she said, throwing her hands into the air in surrender. She started walking quickly down the hall, her heels clicking with every step. She checked behind her to make sure Skyler was following.

It wasn't her fault she was in such a bad mood today. It turned out she had set her alarm an hour earlier than intended, so she had woken up early in the morning, gotten dressed, only to find out that she could have slept for another hour. Then, she had accidentally gone into the wrong room and woken up one of the mentors instead of the tributes, and narrowly avoided a knife in the face. Not to mention that both her tributes were mean, rude, selfish brats that scared the hell out of her.

All in all, it was a bad day, and she was not looking forward to training. She sat down at the table across from her tributes (Bryce had woken himself up, she was starting to like this kid) and began serving herself a huge quantity of food. It wasn't until her plate was full that she turned to the mentor sitting beside her.

"Well, aren't you going to tell them what to do? Give them a training strategy?" She snapped.

The mentor swallowed a huge, disgusting mouthful of food. "Join the careers" she said, and went back to her breakfast.

Jayana set down her knife and fork, annoyed. "I meant" she said "About what to do, which skills to show off, stuff like that."

She was just about to reply when a voice came from the back of the room. "I doubt they really need any more training" it was Scott, the other mentor. He happened to be the one Jayana had woken up this morning. He sat down at the head of the table.

"Yes, but it can't hurt to train just a little bit more. Maybe they could learn some new skills, get accustomed to the Capitol's weapons, get to know their allies."

"Whatever." He ignored her, greedily piling his plate with everything he could reach. Jayana looked down at her own breakfast, having suddenly lost her appetite. Why must she have gotten the job that required her to work with such savages? She considered leaving to eat in her room, but decided against it. She had a feeling she was the only thing keeping a full on food fight from happening. She tried unsuccessfully to stomach her food but finally consented to a simple cup of coffee, hoping it would sustain her for the day.

* * *

On her third cup, none of her companions seemed to be slowing down, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. "Okay guys, it's time to head down to training!" She squealed, trying to appear excited. She got up from her seat. The tributes followed eagerly, shoveling the last of their food into their mouths, but the mentors took a few more minutes before reluctantly getting up. She lead them down the hall.

Once in the elevator, she pressed the button for the ground floor and waited. In the meantime, she took in her tributes. Both looked excited, but cool and determined. She didn't know how Skyler pulled it off with her size, but she was probably the most threatening of all the tributes, especially with those freckles covered up. Those had been the only things making her look mildly sweet and civilized. Now, she looked downright dangerous.

Bryce was mysterious, and didn't talk much, but was also a big threat. He was probably the tallest of the tributes, and his training outfit really showed off his muscles.

Unable to bear the silence, she asked him the first question that came to mind, though she already knew the answer. "So, you're eighteen, right?"

"Nineteen" he said simply, not even turning to look her in the eye. She nodded, then realized what he had said and did a double take.

"Wait, what? You're not nineteen! That's impossible!"

"Yesterday was my birthday." He said simply, as the metal doors opened and he walked out onto the ground floor. The rest of the crew followed, the tributes heading to the training center while the others headed to the observation room.

* * *

They entered the almost empty room reserved for mentors and escorts, and the two victors went automatically into the corner where they could talk to the bloodthirsty female mentor from 1. Thoroughly annoyed with them, Jayana sat down on a couch where she had a good view of the cameras displaying the few tributes that had already arrived. As always, she was the only escort who had stayed to watch the training, but she didn't mind. She took her job very seriously, and without any support from the past victors, she was really district 2's only mentor. Besides, she enjoyed watching the training as much as all the other pre-games events. She could have been getting sponsors at the moment, but she doubted her tributes would need her help with that. What they needed was feedback and advice, which was what she could give them.

"Hey, Jayana, how's it going?" She turned around to see Mags, victor of the 13th Hunger Games and mentor for district 4. She sat down beside her on the couch and handed her a cup of coffee, which Jayana took eagerly despite the three cups she had had earlier that day.

"Rough morning?" Mags asked sympathetically.

"Ugh, tell me about it. You?"

"If I have to spend one more minute in a room with that boy, I think I might scream." She said, taking a sip of the scalding liquid.

Jayana turned her attention back to the training center, where the tributes from districts 1, 2 and 4 had gathered. The perfect time to secure the career alliance.

They were standing together silently, sizing each other up, except for the boy from four that Mags thought was so annoying. This one was bouncing up and down excitedly, chattering on incessantly. "These are the careers, right? Is this all of us? Will we invite anyone else? Where are the others? Are they coming at all? Can we start training yet? Do we have an arena strategy?" The others were exchanging glances, as if to say _we kill this one as soon as we get into the arena._

Mags groaned, and Jayana patted her on the back reassuringly. "So the boy's useless, but what about the girl?" she asked.

"See for yourself"

Jayana searched the crowd, finally identifying the girl from 4. She was wandering around aimlessly, observing her surroundings, totally oblivious to the five tributes not far away from her. "Wow, now I really feel for you."

Meanwhile, the careers had finally started talking, after Citrine had very rudely told the boy from 4 (Hunter, she thought his name was) to shut up before she pulverized him. This seemed to have impressed the others, and they were now forming a plan. "So, me, Bryce, Quartz, Citrine and the two kids from four" Skyler was saying, wrinkling her nose at the useless girl from 4. She was certainly building a reputation amongst the careers, and Jayana was proud of her for it.

It was at that moment that the tributes from districts 8 and 11 entered the training center, and their mentors the observation room. The latter all sat in their corners, paying close attention to the tributes without greeting anyone else, while the tributes stood warily off to the side, watching the careers. They were not allowed to start training until 8 o'clock, when the person in charge would tell them the rules. Until then, they hung around and made alliances. They all stood around awkwardly without anything to do, even the careers stopped talking for fear of being overheard. The tributes from 8 had entered the room together, but the boy had quickly walked away, shooting his district partner occasional nervous glances from across the room.

Districts 5, 6 and 12 all came in next, just as awkward as the others. The mentors dispersed around the small room, chatting with each other. These people often avoided Jayana, as she lived in the capitol, but she didn't mind. It helped her focus on her tributes. It was not long before 7 and 10 arrived, closely followed by 9. Now all that was left was district three.

The trainers all arrived, going to their respective stations, with the lady in charge standing in the center. She had just started her short speech about safety when she was interrupted by the two tributes from district 3 running into the room. She shot them a glare, but continued.

Meanwhile, Silvia Jones, the slightly crazy mentor of both district 3 tributes, took the seat not far from her couch. Jayana shot her a reassuring smile, which was halfheartedly returned. Both women shifted their attention back the the training center.

Finally released, the tributes had dispersed to the various stations. Natalia led district 1 to the sword fighting station, which was great. Get to know her allies. Bryce, though, wasn't doing so well... He had been heading to swords as well, but at the sight of the others going to the same station, had veered off to spears. Frustrated, Jayana pulled on her hair, though quickly let go, putting it back into place. Tonight, she would have to talk to that guy about his social skills.

Actually, he hadn't been the only one to do this. The girl from 12 had eagerly ran to the sword station, but scampered off to archery at the sight of the careers. Jayana wondered why she had wanted to go there in the first place: swords were no place for a girl like her.

Quartz picked up a big, heavy sword and Natalia took a smaller, lighter one. She prepared to fight him, but Quartz just smirked, shook his head, and turned to Citrine. Slightly nervously, she took the sword from an indignant Natalia. She smiled slightly as she felt the weight of the sword, shooting her ally a superior look. In return, she was greeted with a furious glare.

Citrine and Quartz began to spar, slowly at first, Citrine clearly unused to fighting. Quartz was obviously toying with her, easily blocking all her attacks but making no offensive moves. After a few minutes, he seemed to get bored and picked up the pace. Quartz was a blur, his sword a deadly extension of his arm as he backed his opponent up against a dummy. Within but a few seconds, he had knocked her weapon out of her hand and placed the tip of his casually at her throat without even breaking a sweat.

Citrine, pressed up against a practice dummy and breathing heavily, unable to move, shot him a look of pure loathing. He still did not wipe the casual, cocky smile off his face as he put just a little bit more pressure on her neck. A thin stream of blood trickled down her collarbone and she gasped, eyes widened in shock. Clearly, she had not expected him to disregard the rule about not hurting anyone before the arena.

He lowered the weapon and turned to face his other ally, who had been watching the fight with cool indifference. At his invitation, she slowly and casually picked up the recently discarded sword, observing it and testing its weight. Suddenly and without any warning, she attacked. Quartz had clearly not anticipated this so soon, and it was a few seconds before he could manage to successfully block her blows and counter with some of his own. It was a fast-paced and vicious fight. The girl was good, and seemed to handle the sword with ease, but Jayana could see her muscles straining and the sweat on her forehead. It was heavy. And that seemed to take it's toll on her as Quartz picked up the pace and eventually managed to knock the weapon out of her hands.

It clattered to the floor, and it was obvious in Quartz' expression that he believed he had won the fight. However, this girl didn't surrender as easily as Citrine had. She dove for his legs, knocking him off his feet, and causing him to lose his sword as well. He was bigger and stronger than she was, but once again, she had the element of surprise. She jumped on his stomach, her hands outstretched and aiming to choke him, but he managed to flip her over and pin her down, his hands securely placed around her neck, cutting off her oxygen. It appeared that he was actually choking her, and who knows what would have happened had he managed to continue. But it was at that moment that the person in charge of that station stepped in to break apart the fight, yelling that this was sword fighting, not hand-to-hand.

Both tributes stood up and glared at each other before wordlessly picking up their respective weapons and practicing on the dummies. Citrine had observed all this with increasing resentment, but did the same as the other two. It turned out she actually did know how to use a sword, and wasn't half bad, but not nearly as good as her fellow careers.

Bryce, in the meantime, was handling a giant spear with ease. He looked positively bored as he swung it around, easily beating the training assistant in a fight. The little kid from 12 watched all this nervously, struggling to throw his the required distance. Bryce turned around and appeared to notice the kid for the first time. He sauntered over to him, and Jayana turned up the volume on the speaker that would allow her to hear the conversation.

"Do you know how to use that spear?"

The boy nodded nervously, having to crane his neck to look the giant tribute in the eye.

"Prove it."

Jayana had no idea what he would get out of bullying him, but the kid took a deep breath, turned, and threw the spear. It landed slightly off target, but not by too much. He then picked up another one and threw it at a dummy, hitting the stomach, and then took another one, this one hitting the arm. Bryce watched all this with cool amusement.

"Fine. Can you fight?"

The kid (Andy, apparently) nodded and gripped his new spear tighter. Bryce picked up a weapon and attempted to jab him in the stomach, which he just barely avoided by jumping out of the way. Andy attempted to stab him in the leg this time, but Bryce blocked it easily, twisting the shaft around and knocking it out of the kid's hands. "Looks like you could use some practice, eh?" he tossed his spear away and, apparently bored with that station, moved over to knives.

Here, he found the tiny girl from 7. He smirked lazily, his arms crossed, as he watched her choose between the assortment of knives. She stood up, apparently not noticing him, and threw them one by one at the dummies around the room. Each one hit a vital organ, right in the center of the target. Bryce's jaw dropped. Clearly, he had not expected this little wisp of a girl to be so good. He picked up a few knives off the floor, placed all but one in his left hand, and began to do the same thing. He threw a bit slower than she had, and some hit the dummies with enough force to knock them over, but they all found their targets. The girl purposely looked away and continued with her business, not interested in provoking a fight.

Had she not been in public, Jayana would have jumped up and cheered when the other careers announced that they were bored with swords and wanted to move on to knives. Finally, Bryce would get to know the other careers! They stalked over to the station, but appeared not to notice him. Either that, or they were just ignoring him. They each picked up a couple of knives and began throwing them. Quartz was excellent, as always. They hit dead center almost every time, and those that he missed were only slightly off. Citrine was actually quite good: she knew how to throw, her aim was just a bit off. Skyler was, surprisingly, the least competent of the three. She could throw, all right, and with decent accuracy, but she just didn't seem into it. After but a few minutes of knife throwing, she threw down all her weapons but one.

"Who wants to try fighting?" She said, an mischievous glint in her eye.

"With knives?" Quartz snorted "Why would we do that?"

"Awww, are you too scared to fight me?"

"You wish" he retorted "I'm just wondering what you find useful in this"

"You never know what we'll find in the arena" She answered simply.

With a shrug, Quartz dropped the rest of his weapons and jabbed at her, starting the fight. It was clear who was the better tribute in this one. Skyler was like some kind of wild cat, dodging his blows, somersaulting and flipping, kicking him when necessary, it was impossible to keep track of her. Whenever Quartz tried to stab her, she'd duck under his arm and somehow end up behind him. She was superhumanly fast and seemed to anticipate his every move. The fight finally ended with Skyler jumping on Quartz' back, both knives at his throat. The other tributes may be good with swords, and have the advantage of physical size and strength, but this... this was something else entirely.

Quartz just stood there, shocked at having been beaten so easily, and by a girl, no less. Citrine regarded Skyler with even more resentment than before if that was possible, and Bryce just stood with his arms crossed, have watched the whole thing with cool amusement. The little girl from 7 had stopped throwing knives to watch the fight, but now went back to them.

"Woah, did you see that?" Jayana exclaimed, turning to her friend beside her.

Mags jumped, and frowned, squinting at the screen. "No, I'm sorry if I'm a little preoccupied with my _own_ tributes at the moment."

Jayana looked at the tridents station, where both tributes had been training not a minute earlier. Now, Lytha was nowhere in sight, and Hunter was looking dejected at the station all by himself. "Where's the girl?" she asked.

"Ropes." Jayana looked, and sure enough, there was the girl from 4 sitting down, totally oblivious to her surroundings, weaving some kind of complicated net. "The girl is so antisocial" Mags was saying "She rarely ever talks, not that she ever gets the chance, she hasn't even spoken to any of her allies yet. Oh no" she groaned, as Hunter spotted the careers and ran eagerly over to them.

"Hey guys, how's it going? I didn't see you earlier, I was with my district partner but she ditched me. So what are we doing?"

The careers exchanged glances once again, and Quartz turned away to face the targets. "We're throwing knives." He said simply.

"Cool! I love knives!"

"No" Skyler interjected "We were learning to_ fight _with knives, right?" She glared at Bryce, who shrugged.

"That sounds great too! I'm a champion at that back home, well not really but I am pretty good. I'll bet I could take on any one of you, who's up to the challenge?" He looked around eagerly at the rest of them, but none seemed really interested.

"Oh, I don't think any of us are quite at your level" Quartz said "But you know who is?" He pointed to the girl from 7, who was still pretending they didn't exist. "She's your size, your weight, and probably your skill level."

Hunter wrinkled his nose at her "You're sure? She doesn't really look like much of a challenge for me."

"Oh, you'd be surprised" said Quartz, obviously trying hard not to laugh. "She did a lot of damage to those trainers. Hey district 7!" He yelled "What do you say to a little spar with this kid?"

The poor girl jumped when he called her, and turned. She assessed the situation quickly, and shrugged. "I guess. Though I'm used to opponents a bit... taller."

"Yeah, well you're one to talk!" Hunter said. The other careers were trying really hard not to laugh now.

The girl, who was either really brave or really stupid, walked up to her opponent. "Okay. You start."

Hunter, oozing confidence, jabbed at her stomach. The girl (Jasmine, apparently), easily sidestepped and grabbed his wrist, causing him to drop his knife. With surprising strength, she twisted his arm painfully behind his back and pushed him down to the ground. She jumped on his chest and held her knife to his throat.

The careers were now cracking up as Hunter lay there, stunned. Jasmine stood up and, without a second glance, stalked off to the axe station.

It was then that the buzzer sounded for the lunch break, and Jayana stood up eagerly. She was starved.

* * *

**A/N: Not my best chapter, but I guess it was good enough.**

**The next chapter will be from the POV of one of the tributes, I promise! I just wanted to try this idea.**

**I would really appreciate it if you would review, vote on my poll and check out my site!**

**sites dot google dot com/site/yabookrecsreviews/home**


	13. Training: Day 2

**A/N: I know that things are getting a bit confusing with so many tributes, but it will be narrowed down after the bloodbath. I won't include the list of tributes at the beginning of the chapter since it would be too long and you guys would have to keep scrolling up, but there is a list on my profile page, so you can keep that in another tab if you're really confused. I will try to give a little bit more information about each tribute as I mention them, though!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

Keelan Sanders woke to the sound of pounding on the door and his escort yelling for him to get up, or he would miss breakfast. With a groan, he threw back the covers and slowly eased himself out of bed, his muscles still sore from the previous day. He was used to training at camp, but here he learned new skills and trained all day long, which was harder on him.

Still half-asleep, he threw on the outfit that had been laid out for him the night before, not bothering to check his reflection in the mirror before opening his door and stepping into the hallway. He was blinded at first by the bright light, and he realized he had forgotten to turn on his own lights. After taking a few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust, he made his way to the dining room.

Automatically, he veered toward the end of the table, as far away from his sister as he could get, but was ushered over by his mentor. Reluctantly, and carefully trying not to look at Rhea, he took the seat across from her. He had been avoiding his sister ever since the reaping, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. He didn't look at her, tried to put as much distance between them as possible, hadn't said a word to her. Well, except when they had held hands at the opening ceremonies, but he regretted that. And yet she still invaded his thoughts. Like she was now. He urgently piled his plate and absorbed himself in his food, taking care not to pay any attention whatsoever to the girl sitting across from him.

* * *

The elevator ride down to the ground level was awkward, just as it had been yesterday. The escort kept trying to fill the silence by talking, asking questions, but for once, Keelan wasn't in the mood. He stared at the wall and revised, in his head, what he planned to do in training.

The elevator reached the ground floor with a ding! and they all filed out. After some last-minute instructions from his mentor, which he didn't really pay much attention to, he headed to the big doors leading to the area designated to training. The mentors headed to some secret door leading to who-knows-where, and the escort headed outside. Keelan walked quickly, looking straight ahead, yet still very aware of his sister right behind him.

They were late to the training center, and Keelan prayed to the gods that no one would tell his escort about it, or else he would be in big trouble. The head trainer shot them a look of pure loathing, but let them begin without any reprimanding, and Keelan headed straight to the knives station. This had been busy most of the previous day, but he was the first there today. He didn't get much chance to use these weapons at camp, surprisingly, but he figured they were some of the most important ones: There were almost always knives in the arena, and it didn't take many sponsors to buy one. He picked one up, and held it in a way that felt natural, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was doing it right. Nevertheless, he placed his feet, pulled his arm back, and threw the knife. His aim was accurate enough, considering his inexperience, and it just barely missed the dummy.

Keelan was pretty proud of his accomplishment, and had just picked up a new knife to try again, but the the assistant for that center didn't seem to agree. He shook his head, and rushed over to him. "You're doing it all wrong, let me show you!" He snatched the knife out of Keelan's hand, and demonstrated the proper way to hold it, then placed his feet the proper distance apart. "See? Now you try!" Keelan copied what the man had done exactly, threw the knife, and hit the arm. The man threw his hands into the air and stalked away, muttering something about "Hopeless, incompetent kids." Shrugging, Keelan continued with his work. That guy had no patience _at all_.

He was just starting to master the knives when the girl from two walked into the station. Keelan looked around for the the other careers, wondering why she wasn't with them, and found them at archery. Obviously, this girl had ditched them for more time with her beloved knives. Keelan had seen her yesterday, and she had scared the hell out of him. He also knew that she would probably challenge him in a few minutes, so he put down his weapons and walked away to spears, not trusting himself to back down from a fight.

He had chosen spears because he figured that he could use the skills he had acquired in knives. He picked up the shortest spear he could find (just to start out), and pain immediately flared up his arm. Wincing, he dropped the weapon and looked at his bloodied hands. His blisters from yesterday had opened up, he would have to bandage them. He shrugged. Oh well, nothing he could do about it now. He took the spear back and threw it at a dummy, hitting the leg. Not bad, for a first attempt. He tried again, this time aiming a little higher and throwing a little harder, and hitting the arm. He tried again. And again. And again.

He was so engrossed in his work that it was a few minutes before he noticed his sister out of the corner of his eye, at the same station. He immediately began to panic. Why had she come here? Why this station? They were supposed to be avoiding each other! Had she not noticed him? Well, that was kind of the point, maybe he could just ignore her too.

Still, he listened intently when she struck up a conversation with the little boy from 12, who seemed to like this station a lot: He had been there since the beginning. Keelan continued with his spears, but his attention was entirely focused on Rhea's conversation. He knew that he wasn't supposed to do this, but he couldn't help himself.

"...good with that spear."

"Thanks, it's kind of the only thing I can use."

"Well I think it's a pretty handy skill, much better than any of mine."

"What can you do?"

"Oh, survival stuff, where'd you learn to use that in twelve?"

"A camp" he said vaguely, and there was a moment of silence. Keelan didn't dare look, but he wondered if the kid was a half-blood. He pushed the thought away immediately. He would have noticed him, and it was highly unlikely that more than two demigods had landed in the games.

"Is it possible that I... know about this camp?" She whispered, cautiously.

"I think so." And that was all. Keelan sneaked a glance and saw them shaking hands, a silent agreement.

Rhea had an ally.

* * *

Keelan was mad. His stupid sister had gone off, disobeying their dad, and made an alliance. With a twelve-year-old from district twelve! Granted, he was probably a demigod, but still! Not that Keelan cared, though. Rhea would have to die anyways, better sooner than later. And even if she didn't, her ally would be a bloodbath for sure.

He stormed off to the climbing wall, craving the familiarity. On his way there, he stole glances at a few of the tributes. A lot of them had seemed familiar to him when he had watched their reapings, but he had dismissed it, told himself he was seeing things. Now though... he wondered how many of the tributes were half-bloods. That girl from six, for example, looked a whole lot like the head of his cabin. And she was also from district six, just like Dahlia. In fact, was her name Dahlia? Okay, that made four demigods, and two people he knew. How had he stumbled upon such rotten luck?

Once there, he leaped onto the wall and climbed to the top as quickly as possible, so used to wall shaking that this one seemed positively easy. He still climbed it as if he were really outrunning lava and boulders, but it just wasn't the same. There was a girl there, too, climbing up and down at the same speed as Keelan. Could she be a demigod too? He almost laughed out loud at that thought, now he was just getting ridiculous. And paranoid. How many could there be in one games?

Nevertheless, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, and when she finally reached the bottom for the third time, he sat down and pretended to tie his shoe. There was another girl there, a few years younger, that also looked pretty familiar. They started talking.

"Not much of a challenge is it, after camp?" The younger girl said. Keelan scooted a little closer.

"How... how did you...?" He could hear the shock in her voice. So she _was_ a demigod? And apparently, so was the other kid. No, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

"I recognized you. You're kind of at the campfires every night. Lyssa, right?" Well, coincidences didn't exist when you were a demigod. Keelan stole a quick glance. Yes, now that he knew who she was, the girl certainly looked familiar. She was from the Apollo cabin, the best singer at camp.

"Umm... yeah. And your mom... she's... wise?"

The girl's face broke into a smile. "Right. I'm Kennedia, by the way. Allies?"

Lyssa still looked shocked, but she took the girl's outstretched hand anyways.

* * *

So there were more demigods. Six so far, that he knew of. Was it always like this? No, he would have known, camp would have been more worried and more people he knew would have been reaped. How could this have happened? How many of the tributes were demigods? Did camp know about this?

His thoughts were running a million miles an hour as he found himself at the track that ran the perimeter of the training center. Not bothering to stretch or warm up but knowing he would regret it later, he sprinted down the track, and kept going even when he began to tire.

He tried to forget all about sister, and the other demigods, and why they were here, and even about going into the arena in a few days. He focused on his speed, on the rhythm of his breathing, and on the burning in his muscles, until the bell finally rang for lunch.

He was brought back down to earth by the sudden noise, and stumbled to a walk. Breathing heavily and sweating like crazy, he made his way through the training center and over to the designated room. He found an empty table at the back, and sat down heavily, serving himself a huge portion of food.

Eating alone felt very odd to Keelan, who had gotten so used to the noise of the overcrowded Hermes table. Even at home, meals were never silent, and it just felt so unnatural to eat in silence and especially solitude, as he had been during his entire trip to the capitol. He found he had less of an appetite these days, despite the abundance of food.

Of course, there was always the screaming coming from the career table, but he would rather die than go sit with them. Actually, sitting with them would probably result in death anyways. He didn't want to find out.

Without meaning to, he found himself staring at Rhea, sitting a few tables away from him with her new ally. They must have been talking about something serious, because they were whispering, their heads bent. Probably discussing strategy.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?"

Keelan whipped his head around to see Dahlia from the Hermes cabin, standing behind the seat across from him. "Oh, yeah... sure" He stammered, wondering if she recognized him.

She pulled the chair out and sat down, poking at her food. "I'm just not used to the table being so quiet."

So she had recognized him. No surprise there, considering how much trouble he got into at camp. If she wasn't the one to punish him, she turned him over to Chiron. She despised him. Funny how things had worked out.

"Sorry about your sister, by the way" She said, looking down at her plate "I know how hard that must be."

"Thanks" He concentrated on his meal too, not trusting himself to say any more.

Dahlia looked around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned across the table. "How many demigods are there, do you think?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He still didn't look up. "Six, that I know of. Me, you, Rhea, the girl from five, the girl from three, and that kid from twelve."

She nodded. "Not to mention the girl from four, and the boy from one."

Keelan looked up, surprised, and tried to get a decent view of the career's table.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't recognized them! Lytha Mazely, that crazy girl from the Poseidon cabin? And how could you not notice Quartz Ametrine, the only son of Zeus?"

Keelan's eyes widened. "_Quartz?!_" He was screwed. He was totally, totally screwed. There was no way in Hades he would make it out of that arena.

Dahlia pursed her lips. "Yes, and I'm still not sure about the other careers. Some of them look pretty familiar, but I haven't gotten close enough to know for sure. There's definitely something weird going on."

Keelan sat back in his chair. "No kidding. How many do you think there are?"

She sat back too, and scrunched her eyebrows. "I wondered if maybe we were _all_ demigods, but how could that happen?"

"That rule about not volunteering was too much of a coincidence, someone obviously rigged the reapings. But the president doesn't know about us, does he?"

She shook her head. "No, he's mortal. It must have been someone else, but who would have that kind of power?"

"A titan?"

"Maybe, but if someone wants to wipe us all out that badly... They're obviously planning something against us. This is bad, Keelan. Let's hope we're wrong."

"Yeah" He wondered, secretly, if camp would find a way to break them out, but decided not to dwell on it. He shouldn't get his hopes up.

They both jumped when the bell rang again, signalling for them to clear out into the training center. Keelan had almost forgotten about that. He got up and immediately looked for his sister, finally finding her by the door, still talking to her ally. He followed her out.

Once in the enormous room where he had spent his morning, he walked slowly to the survival station, paying special attention to the other tributes. Yes, most of them were at least vaguely familiar, though some not at all. Still, there were plenty of demigods who chose to live in the mortal world these days; it was quite possible that some of them had just never gone to camp.

He finally found himself at the edible plants station, and sat himself down. He got to work, and tried to concentrate, but his mind was elsewhere. Clearly, he would not be learning anything else today.

* * *

**A/N: Don't forget to review! Special thanks to everyone who already did! Sorry if it was short, I did try to make the chapter longer, but it just didn't work.**


	14. Training: Day 3

**A/N: S****orry for the late update. I've had this all planned out for a long time, but just never got around to writing it down. I've just been reading a lot and obsessing over books. On that note, I have a goodreads now! I included a link in my profile.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

Lytha Mazely was already awake and dressed, watching the rain trace paths down her window, when her escort knocked on her door.

"Coming!" she yelled, but she stayed at her window seat for a few more seconds, in the pretense of getting ready. She loved rain: she wasn't sure why, but she liked to watch it as it fell from way up in the clouds and drowned everything out, washing away all the dust and junk, sending the animals into hiding. Most of all, she loved the day after, when everything felt fresh and new, as if the rain had washed away a whole layer of the earth, revealing a new world underneath.

Slowly, she got up, smoothing down her training outfit. She checked the mirror to make sure that no hairs were falling out of her fishtail braid, and proceeded into the hallway. The heavy boots that completed the mandatory outfit made it impossible to move quietly as they hit the wooden floor, the sounds echoing all across the hallway.

She was the first person to arrive at the table, and she sat down daintily at her regular spot. She took a roll of greenish bread, the kind she only got to eat when she visited her stepfather's home in district 4, and added a healthy portion of strawberry jam. She had just taken the first bite when she heard the yelling and screaming from the other end of the hallway that meant the rest of her team was coming.

Hunter bounded into the room before the others, and took his seat eagerly. "Hi Lytha, how's it going? Did you sleep well? I sure did. The capitol is amazing, isn't it? I mean, look at this food! I can't wait to eat it, but I'm gonna wait for the others, because that would be rude, right?

Lytha nodded, continuing to eat her roll. She had learned from experience that Hunter never expected answers to his questions, so it was best to just sit back and ignore him, nodding at the appropriate times.

"I'm so excited for training, aren't you? It's too bad it's the last day, but at least it means we get to enter the arena soon. I'm sure I'll get a twelve in the evaluations, I mean, I did so well in training. I guess the other careers might do almost as well, maybe tens or-"

"Shut up, Hunter." Mags, Lytha's mentor, had entered the room and grudgingly taken her spot beside him "Here," she said, handing him a roll, "Stuff this into your mouth, maybe that'll get to you stop talking."

Hunter glared at her, but took it anyways. "I wish my mom were mentoring this year" he muttered

"Trust me, she would have said the same thing."

It hadn't taken Lytha very long to figure out that Hunter came from a whole family of victors. His dad was his mentor, which neither of them seemed very happy about, and he complained constantly about his rotten luck, that Mags was the other mentor, and not his mother or sister. Lytha pitied Mags for having to put up with this obnoxious family every year.

it was then that district four's escort, Aspen Burdock, shuffled awkwardly into the dining room. No one really paid him much attention, or bothered to ask why he was late. Everyone, that is, but Lytha.

"Hello Aspen! I see you're having some trouble with your feet." She was the only one of the group who knew that the escort was really a satyr, and he seemed pretty unnerved about it. The others all thought she was crazy but it didn't bother her. She knew that really, she was the only sane person in the group.

The satyr blanched. He looked around the table nervously (as if anyone had actually paid her any attention), and said, very loudly, "Yes Lytha, my feet are really hurting me today. I appreciate your concern, but it is really none of your business."

He sat down and piled his plate, taking care to avoid the gazes of the others. Lytha noticed that his face was beet red. Honestly, what was so embarrassing about the whole country knowing you were half goat? Satyrs were pretty common, and they weren't exactly the weirdest looking things in Panem. That title went to the prep teams.

Once the usual chatter had resumed (Hunter blabbering on incessantly, Mags telling him to shut up, his dad trying to squeeze in some training advice), Aspen leaned over and hissed in her ear. "You watch it, lady. Don't mess with the person in charge of your survival."

Lytha shrugged, not in the least bit worried. He said this all the time. She didn't really understand it; She was the only person who could control her fate, sponsors could just help a little. There was only so much her escort could do for her, and that wasn't much. Even Mags' power was limited.

Nevertheless, she kept her mouth shut for the rest of her painfully short breakfast.

For it wasn't long before Hunter had the nerve to ask Aspen why he never removed his cap. The old goat stood up abruptly, announcing that it was time they get down to training. With much unhappy grumbling, the team got up and made their way to the elevators.

* * *

They were the first to the training room, besides district 2, who had been in the elevator with them. The other careers stood off to the side, the tall, scary one towering over the... even scarier, but much smaller girl.

Lytha had just decided to try to talk to them when she felt a tug on her sleeve.

"Lytha, Lytha, are you even listening to me?" _No,_ she thought, but kept quiet.

"I _said,_ is Aspen a satyr?"

She whipped her head around to look him in the eyes. "How did you.."

He smiled proudly. "You didn't honestly think career training had made me _this_ good, did you? I'm a demigod, like you!"

Now that she thought about it, she had recognized him from somewhere, though she had assumed she'd just seen him at home. Not that she really paid much attention to her neighbors, or even to the other demigods at camp, but he was a little hard to miss. She wondered who his godly parent was: who was really annoying? Hermes? Maybe... Aphrodite? Quite possible, Lytha had heard stories about her. Apollo? She had met him once, and he did seem a lot like her district partner... Or was there some minor god of talking or something?

"Helloooooo, earth to Lytha! Why do you never answer me?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Oh, sorry. What did you say, again?"

He sighed exasperatedly. "My dad is Ares. Aren't you glad I'm in the career pack?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess." _Ares?_ This kid was the son of the god of war? Lytha had never really met the god, but she knew that he was tough and scary and... big. And he didn't talk that much. For some reason, she had always imagined as some kind of bloodthirsty troll: a big ugly thing that just pointed and grunted when he needed to communicate. That was so far from her district partner, it was laughable.

"How 'bout we go find the other careers?" she said, already making her way over to them, without waiting for Hunter to reply.

* * *

The tributes from district 1 and 2 didn't seem very happy about the arrival of their allies, and stopped their conversation abruptly, glaring at Lytha and Hunter.

"What do you guys want?" Skyler sneered.

"Oh, just wondering about strategy and... you know... stuff" Lytha wasn't really sure what she was supposed to do, but Mags had told her to make friends, and talk to her allies as much as possible. That task was proving harder than expected. What was she supposed to say?

She was spared the embarrassment by the arrival of the boy from 8: Kaspian, son of Athena. She recognized him from camp. He walked up to them confidently, his arms swinging loosely at his sides, but Lytha noticed the slight trembling of his hands and the way his eyes darted around between the careers.

"Hey, guys!" he said cheerfully. The careers looked down at him as if he were a particularly disgusting bug. "You know, you look really familiar" he continued, addressing Quartz.

"Nope, never seen you before." He answered, turning back to face Skyler. "So, where should we start?"

"Um, I think I've seen most of you before, actually" Kaspian continued, visibly more nervous than before but still not giving up. "Maybe from some kind of camp or something? I go to a camp."

Quartz froze. He turned around, curious, to face Kaspian, who seemed to regain some confidence at that. "A camp?" he asked.

"Yes" Kaspian nodded vigorously "It's for... special kids" He winced at the word. "I mean, kids with special _abilities_. You know, good at fighting and stuff. It's like a career training camp"

"So you're saying you're a career?"

"No. Well, Yes. I mean, you could say that."

"And you want to join the pack?"

"Yes, that would be great."

Quartz paused, thinking, then turned to the other careers. "Axes, now. Let's see what this kid can do."

Lytha hadn't realized that she had missed the signal to begin training. She stayed behind to talk to Kaspian as the other careers ran to the training station.

"I recognized you, by the way."

"Thanks. Do you think you could get me into the career pack?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. In case you haven't noticed, the other careers don't really listen to me." But at his disappointed look, she added. "Oh, but I'll try, of course! I do want you in the pack!" Maybe having one friend would make the games more bearable. That is, until he died...

They reached the axes, and each picked one up. Lytha had absolutely no idea how to wield such a weapon, and she had a feeling Kaspian was thinking the same thing. Nevertheless, she swung it at a dummy, using it like some weird sword, and it seemed to work well enough.

Kaspian cleared his throat and said, loudly enough for the careers to hear, "Well, I've never used one of these things before, but I guess I'll try." He swung it in an arc, decapitating the nearest dummy in one swift motion. The move was simple enough, but done with such ease that it was clear he had learned it before.

Next, he pulled his arm back and launched the axe across the room. It was a good throw, but flew clear of the target. Seemingly undaunted, he repeated the action with another axe, this time hitting the very edge of the target. Lytha noticed Quartz watching him instead of training, which was unusual for a career. Then again, it was quite possible Qurartz had never been taught to use such a weapon either, having acquired all his skill at camp. His expression was unreadable, but Lytha hoped he was at least mildly impressed. Few people could be so competent with an unfamiliar weapon.

None of the other careers were paying even the slightest attention to their potential ally. Skyler was viciously chopping the dummies to bits, Citrine showing off her throwing skills, and Bryce had completely disappeared. Hunter, in the meantime, was struggling to lift the heavy axes, but still managing to do a bit of damage.

Lytha realized that she had completely forgotten about training. Snapping out of the daze she had been in, she lifted the axe and threw it at the target in front of her.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten to make sure the coast was clear before throwing, and Quartz had chosen that exact moment to step in front her her. He had to drop to the floor as her axe came sailing over his head to plant itself in the floor a few meters away from the target.

He got up shakily and shot her a glare, picking up his axe and running toward her, ready to bury it in her head. Lytha stumbled backward and tripped over a discarded dummy's head. On her butt, she tried to scoot backward and put as much distance between herself and the monster that was supposed to be her ally, but it was hopeless.

He would have caught and probably killed her, had it not been for the training officials arriving just in time to hold him back. He struggled against them, screaming. "She tried to kill me! Are you guys crazy? Let me at her!"

Lytha just sat there staring, terrified and relieved and shocked all at the same time. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing when he wrenched his arm out of the official's grip and threw his axe at her.

She managed to roll out of the way just in time, but it still grazed her left arm. She cried out in pain and clutched it tightly, but the damage didn't appear to be too great. Still, she was in a rather vulnerable position. It was a good thing he was out of weapons.

Soon, they were dragging Quartz, still fighting against their restraints, out of the training center. Lytha sat up, inspecting the damage on her arm. The fabric was torn, but it had done its job well: The damage was minimal, and she hadn't lost too much blood. She would be good as new before long.

Still, she gasped as she stood up and struggled to find her balance, stumbling until Kaspian appeared beside her. "Thanks" she said, as he helped her regain her footing.

"No problem" he replied. "Hey guys, why don't we go to some survival stations or something?"

Skyler, who had never stopped training the whole time, glared at the two tributes. "No, I'm not going to let some whiny brat slow us all down. We're going to swords."

Kaspian just shrugged. "Fine then, we'll meet you there in an hour. Come on, Lytha." She dragged her away by her good arm.

"Um, Kaspian? I don't think I'll be ready to use swords after only an hour." It wasn't like she was any good with those anyway.

"Just trust me" he hissed.

Once at the snare station, he sat down beside her and leaned over a piece of wire, pretending to make something. When there was no one in sight, he dug around in his pocket, finally coming up with a slightly crushed square of something that looked like a piece of cake.

Lytha was shocked. "Is that-"

"Ambrosia? Yes. I've had it with me the whole time. I brought it with me, just in case... I don't know. Some silly notion that I might be able to sneak it into the arena. It was stupid."

"Stupid? That was brilliant! A plan worthy of your mother. I'm suddenly glad to have you as an ally!" She reached over and broke off a piece, shoving it into her mouth. It tasted like the capitol's delicious lamb stew. She could feel her arm mending itself, the pain fading to a dull throb.

"That reminds me, why did you want to join the careers in the first place?" she asked.

He sighed. "It's the only way I can survive, Lytha. I need an ally, and preferably a big group."

She nodded, and returned to her snare. They spent the rest of the hour in comfortable silence.

* * *

The met the rest of the pack, not at swords, but at the running track. Lytha figured they had tried to ditch them, but you couldn't hide for long in the training centre. Sooner or later, someone was bound to find you. The careers picked up their pace once the others joined them, probably hoping to lose them, but the strategy proved ineffective. For one, they had been running for much longer, whereas Lytha and Kaspian were not nearly as tired. There was also the fact that both tributes were outstanding runners.

They stayed together, running side by side, until the bell rang for lunch.

Lytha was starved. What with Aspen cutting breakfast short and all the training she had done, she had really worked up an appetite. She sat down eagerly at her regular spot at the end of the career's table, Kaspian right across from her, and piled her plate.

The careers talked a lot. And very loudly. Hunter fit right in. Lytha wasn't sure exactly what they were screaming about, but she had a feeling she didn't really want to know. They seemed to argue about the slightest, most pointless little things, and she had no interest in joining them. Who cared if a bow was better than a sword? She sat in her corner, silently eating her lunch, when Kaspian broke their silence.

"Hey, district two!" he yelled across the table, loud enough for them to stop their conversation. "Do you, by any chance, know my dad? He's a trainer in your district!"

"Who is he?" Skyler called.

"Peryte. Really smart. Specialises in strategy?"

Skyler shook her head and turned her back, but Bryce's face flashed with recognition. He moved over to sit beside Kaspian, which was quite shocking considering how antisocial he was. He spoke in a low voice. "Wait a minute, you're from two?"

Kaspian nodded proudly. "Born and raised!"

Bryce's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why did you leave?"

He shrugged. "My mom thought it would be a _wiser_ choice" He put emphasis on the word, hinting that he was a son of Athena "to send me to this other camp. Then she figured I'd stand a better chance of being reaped if I moved to 8." Lytha saw him tense up a bit at the end, and wondered how much of his story was true. It didn't seem like Athena to improve her child's chances of ending up in the Hunger Games. Then again, gods were unpredictable. Still, if Lytha had to guess, she would say that he had chosen to leave his home, but didn't want to mention it in front of a big, scary career from the exact place he had left.

Bryce didn't seem to notice this detail for whatever reason, and extended his hand. "Then welcome to the pack, kid. You'd better be useful." He walked back over to his spot.

Kaspian let out a sigh of relief once he was out of earshot. "Glad that's over. Let's hope Quartz agrees once they let him out."

Lytha nodded in agreement. The authorities still hadn't returned Quartz to the training center, and she could only assume it was a temporary punishment.

* * *

After lunch, Lytha left the career pack to go train on her own. This was partly, but not entirely, because Quartz had been allowed to return to training and she didn't really want to face him. She decided to try out some archery, which was mostly reserved for the Apollo campers, though she had used them a few times.

She found a bow of an appropriate size and a quiver of arrows, which she slung over her back. She took up the stance she had learned and held out her bow. Already, she encountered her first problem. Her left arm was shaky and not fully recovered, so when she loaded an arrow and drew back, she had trouble holding the bow in place. She let the arrow fly, but it landed pathetically only a few feet from where she stood. She went to go recover it.

One problem with extreme ADHD: She couldn't help noticing the skill of the two other girls at the station. She noticed each arrow as it pierced the air, landing perfectly on target. The girl from 12 was good, but not excellent; it was the tiny one from 7 that worried Lytha. She was scary good. She never, ever missed, firing arrow after arrow at odd angles, ducking and rolling to dodge an imaginary assault. It was impossible. Even the kids in the Apollo cabin couldn't shoot that well. Lytha could only imagine how much practice this girl must have had.

The tribute from 12 seemed to be thinking the same thing. She stopped what she was doing and stared, awestruck, at the tiny girl. "You're a hunter" she whispered, just loud enough for the two girls to hear.

The girl's head whipped around. "What?" She walked over to 12, and Lytha discreetly moved a little closer.

"How did you know?" She hissed

"I'm a demigod," The other girl answered. "I never spent much time at camp, but I've met the hunters before, in the woods."

The hunter just stared at her for a second, calculating. Then she asked "Are you any good with that bow?"

She shrugged. "I guess, but I prefer a sword."

She nodded approvingly. "You know, I could use an ally.."

Lytha couldn't see the other girl's face, but she seemed to perk up a bit. "You're... You're serious?" her tone was incredulous.

The hunter shrugged. "Yeah, I'm used to hunting in a group and you seem good enough. What do you say?"

Under normal circumstances, it would have been funny the way this tall girl seemed so intimidated by a ten-year old, but the hunter had an aura about her that demanded respect.

Realizing how suspicious she must look, Lytha went back to her bow. She pulled the arrow back, aimed, and released. She was improving. It almost reached the dummy before falling flat. She tried again, and this time the arrow had enough momentum, but flew way off target, hitting the dummy next to the one she was aiming for.

She had just readied another deadly weapon (supposing she was aiming for a crowd of people), when a deafening scream came from the hand-to-hand combat station and she whipped her head around. Unsurprisingly, it was Quartz' victim. The girl from nine (who was way smaller than her opponent) had her arm bent painfully behind her back at an unnatural angle, but Quartz didn't seem ready to let her surrender just yet. As Lytha watched, the girl jerked violently and her hair stood up as a jolt of electricity shot through her.

The peacekeepers arrived soon after to end the torture and escort Quartz away for the second time of the day. The girl stumbled, but regained her footing and walked off, waving away the help of her ally. She was trembling violently, but she would probably be okay by the time she got into the arena.

Lytha decided that her training was going nowhere, a conclusion that she reached pretty much every time she ever picked up a weapon. She gently put down her bow and headed over to the ropes. Once there, she sat down cross-legged and got to work.

Oddly enough, nets were the one thing she was able to concentrate on. She was able to completely blot out the rest of the world and focus on her fingers and the intricate knots and patterns they were making. Her tight, strong nets were among the most popular in her district. She supposed it was her dad that gave her such natural abilities.

She worked for probably a few hours, but to her it felt like but a couple of minutes. She had already made good progress on her net when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

It was Dahlia, head of the Hermes cabin and female tribute from district six. "Is it okay if I sit here?"

Lytha was surprised, but she nodded. "Of course."

Dahlia sat down beside her, and grabbed a bunch of ropes, though she clearly had no idea how to weave a proper net. "So," she whispered "How many demigods have you noticed in these games so far?"

She thought about that for a second, not sure exactly why Dahlia wanted to know. "The boy from one, The boy from four, the girl from seven, the girl from twelve. Then there's the boy from eight and... yeah, that's all I know about."

Dahlia counted silently on her fingers, then paused. "Wait, the girl from seven?" then her eyes widened and her lips parted in understanding. "Oh. We'll have to look out for her. Anyways, that makes thirteen demigods that we know of, and you never know about the others. Thanks for the help, Lytha, and make sure you tell me if you find out about any others." She got up and walked over to edible plants.

Lytha went back to her net, wondering what all that had been about.

* * *

**A/N: Who saw the new Catching Fire trailer? Everyone, yes? Oh. My. Gods. I was watching it live when they showed it, and I freaked out! I honestly asked my mom if I could see the midnight premier, but no... I have school. It's going to be so awesome, though, even better than the first. What was your favourite part? I had, like, ten. Haymitch's lines were all awesome. And I will never get over Finnick's outfit.**

**Sorry, I'm kind of super excited right now (It made writing Hunter much easier lol), I've been following comic con. The City of Bones cast interview was hilarious, Robert Sheehan is so awesome! Yeah... I'm actually gonna see _that_ movie at midnight.**

**Review and vote on my poll! Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited!**


	15. Training Evaluations

**A/N: Okay, so I understand things are getting confusing with all the tributes, but I can't really do it any other way, sorry! Since this fic isn't based on only one tribute, but on the games themselves, obviously I have to mention all of them. As I said before, though, about half will die in the bloodbath, and in the meantime, I'll try to gloss over the less important ones.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

The new head gamemaker Saffron Galloway sank into his chair, which sat at the front of the gamemakers' stage, ready to begin the evaluations. He had his pen and paper ready, as well as the notes he had taken during training. He knew that he was only supposed to judge the tributes based on their performance in the evaluations, but he just hadn't been able to help himself. He needed all the information he could get.

His fellow gamemakers crowded into the room and took their seats. Finally, he could begin the evaluations. He called in the first tribute.

"Quartz Ametrine, District one!"

He frowned, recognizing the name, and looked down at his notes. Ah yes, the troublemaker. Illegally injured three people in training. President Snow himself had made a special request for his score. Well that made this whole thing pretty pointless. He signalled for the boy to begin, and paid eager attention anyways. He just loved watching the careers!

The boy ran straight for the swords, and began hacking away at the dummies right away. Saffron had to admit; this guy was good. Pity he had ruined his chances so early on. He slashed and jabbed, spinning and even doing a few flips. He was probably the most promising tribute this year.

Valoria, the most dedicated of the gamemakers, sat to Saffron's left, furiously scribbling away on her notepad. He nudged her, and her head snapped up to glare at him. He put his hands up.

"Sorry. Just reminding you that we don't need to pay any attention to this one. Snow requested his score, remember?" He held up his notes.

She rolled her eyes, put down her pen, and rolled her wrist. She continued watching Quartz with a scrutinizing eye.

And Saffron couldn't blame her for paying attention. He was now fighting one of the trainers, and was actually winning. Against a guy who had been swordfighting all his life, that was pretty impressive. Those career training camps were getting better.

All too soon, the fighting ended and the fifteeen minutes were up. Saffron dismissed the tribute and called for the next one.

Citrine Opal walked purposefully into the room, her head held high. She was gorgeous, and she clearly knew it. Saffron had to admit, he had spent most of his time watching _her_ during the last few days. She stood in front of the gamemakers, and he waved his hand to tell her to begin.

She immediately jumped into a full-out sprint, running around the track one, two, three times at a decent speed. When she was done with that, she still looked good. She stopped abruptly and made her way over to the archery section, not appearing affected in any way by her run. Now, that was talent. She grabbed a bow, stood so that the gamemakers had a good view of her (Which Saffron was very grateful for), and got into the proper stance. She pulled her shoulders back and took her time loading the arrow, so that they could see the muscles flexing in her arms. They were hanging onto her every move. Finally, she released the arrow, and it hit dead center. Or close enough, anyways. He wasn't really paying attention. She repeated the action with another arrow.

All too soon, the fifteen minutes were up, and Citrine had to leave the room.

Immediately, Valoria jabbed him in the side, hard, and hissed "She's useless, I don't care how pretty she is!"

He started, and turned to face her, incredulous. "But-"

"Oh, don't pretend she stands a chance. Her running time wasn't that good, awful for a career, and who takes two minutes just to load-"

She was cut off as the doors opened and in stepped the large, muscular boy from 2. "Bryce Onyx, district two" he announced, and Saffron nodded.

He went straight for the swords, and took no time at all picking out the most lethal-looking one. He proceeded to chop the dummies to pieces with blinding speed, using just about every move taught in the career camps with ease, and it wasn't long before he had slaughtered most of his surroundings.

But he didn't stop there. He immediately went to the knives, and picked up a few. He threw them one at a time with decent accuracy, then picked up a few more and did the same. He had now used up a full ten minutes. Once he had thrown enough knives, he sprinted to weight lifting and picked up the heaviest ball. He tried to make it look easy, but even from this distance, Saffron could tell it took a lot of effort. Still, it was impressive.

After a few minutes of that, he sprinted down the track, just to prove how athletic he was. Smart of him, to finish with that. He had a minute left... done. A full circle around the training center. This guy was crazy.

The head gamemaker dismissed him, and the people around him broke into excited conversation. Saffron whistled as he wrote down the boy's score. This guy would be a fierce competitor.

His district partner was also pretty impressive. Though small, she breezed through the agility course, then easily defeated all her opponents in hand-to-hand and with knives. The careers looked like they would be tough to beat this year.

Saffron sank back into his chair when he realized it was now time for district three, meaning that the fun part of the evening was over. Now, he would have to sit through five hours of dead kids trying in vain to rack up at least a four. Good thing the food would be arriving soon.

The boy from three was unimpressive, spending his time making some weird snares and shelters that Saffron didn't understand. Valoria seemed to, though, and he decided to trust her decision. His tiny district partner, Kennedia, was actually pretty impressive: She scaled the rock climbing wall, and did a pretty good job at throwing knives, before building a solid shelter. Saffron wondered where she had learned all that.

They all got a good laugh after that when Hunter Clearwater eagerly entered the room, and spent his fifteen minutes trying to impress them with his sword fighting skills. He was defeated every time, though he did hold on for a few minutes. He was okay, but not ne`arly as good as he seemed to think. His score wasn't great either.

Lytha Mazely from district four started off well enough by running around the track a few times, but it went downhill from there. She literally spent ten whole minutes sitting at ropes, boring them to death by weaving some net. Luckily, it was then that the food arrived, and they were spared having to watch her (everyone except Valoria, of course, who insisted on staying), as they pigged out on the finest food the capitol had to offer.

When the time came, Saffron dismissed Lytha and took his seat again, his plate balanced on his knees. Aster Hansen entered the room next, which seemed to get the attention of all the women in the room. He was quite handsome, even Saffron could see that, but was he any good? He took the time to wave at each of them in turn, then jogged to the weight lifting station. He wasn't all that good, but it showed off his muscles, which impressed a lot of them. He then went to the sword fighting station and shocked all the gamemakers with his skill. He wasn't as good as the careers, but he had certainly done this before.

His district partner, Lyssa, started by running around the track a few times surprisingly quickly, but it wasn't that impressive. What really caught their attention was when she picked up a bow and began running around the room, firing arrows at anything that would serve as a target, and hitting each one. So she was good with a bow? He took note of that.

Saffron took another sip of his wine before the next tribute, and he could start to feel his brain get a little fuzzy. He would be fine, though. He did this every year, and the tributes were always rated properly.

Vincent Sorel was good with a sword, but that was the only really remarkable thing about him, besides how passionate he seemed about it. He yelled as he put everything he had into slicing those dummies to shreds, a wild look in his eyes, as if imagining he was actually killing a living thing. What was this kid on?

Dahlia Jade was quite remarkable, proving herself athletic by running around and scaling the rock wall. She, like just about every other tribute, also appeared to be good with a sword. That was weird. He would have to make sure there were plenty in the arena. He scribbled down a fairly generous score for her, trusting his co-workers to help him out.

Jayden of district 7 was good with weapons, apparently both axes and bows. Seriously, where did these kids learn all this stuff? It looked like the peacekeepers were being a bit lenient with about the illegal training that was clearly going on. He would have to report that to president Snow. He scribbled down a reminder.

The next tribute snapped him awake immediately. It was that ten-year-old freak! Once she had been given the okay to start, she went straight for the agility course and did it in record time. She sprinted to the throwing knives and picked up a few of the weapons, then threw them with deadly accuracy. After ten had been planted in the various dummies, she ran to the archery station. Here is where Saffron was totally blown away. She didn't even bother with the targets. She found tiny spots around the room: The lights, the various buttons, even the cans of paint at the camouflage station. "Impossible," he muttered under his breath. No other tribute could even notice those details, much less be able to shoot them. She ran around, ducking and jumping to avoid imaginary opponents, even throwing in a few flips. She slung her bow onto her back and climbed the rock wall, stopping in the center to fire an arrow at a dummy in the axes station. Once at the top, she climbed like a monkey onto the rafters, and ran along them so quickly Saffron was sure she would fall. But she continued to shoot her invisible attackers, until her fifteen minutes were up.

"Hey kid, your time's up! It's time you go back!" He yelled at her, and she seemed to understand. She nodded and put her bow away, then climbed back down to the floor. She proceeded out the room. Saffron whistled, and wrote down the score he had given her, but looked up to see Valoria's disapproving face.

"What? You didn't like her?"

She shook her head. "She's too small. Won't last a minute."

She had a point there. Fine. He crossed out the girl's score and wrote down a slightly lower one. There, that was appropriate. He called in the next tribute.

The boy, Kaspian Peryte, was also apparently very good with swords. Seriously, what was with the tributes this year? He was actually really good, especially for a non-career, but he lost Saffron's interest when we went to shelter.

The head gamemaker got up to refill his glass, and maybe get some more food in the meantime. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, but how else would he manage to sit through all these tributes? He didn't think he could eat much more, and the staff had forgotten to include those drinks that made you throw up. He would have to talk to them about that.

After pouring himself more wine, he made his way back to his seat at the front, having to use the other seats to keep his balance. He sat down heavily and sighed, taking a long sip. He dismissed the boy, whose time was up, and called for the next tribute.

"Thalia Morgan, District Eight"

He nodded and the girl started. She was pretty... almost as pretty as the girl from one. Saffron got the distinct feeling he was supposed to know something about her... didn't she have a famous dad or something? She did look familiar...

She did the same thing as pretty much everyone else: Rock climbing, then swords, and she was pretty good. She would get a decent score.

The boy from district 9, Keelan Sanders, was agile and good with an axe, though Saffron didn't know where he could have learned that in district nine. He wrote down a decent score.

His district partner, Rhea Sage, was slightly more boring. She spent half her time sorting edible plants (The results of which, Saffron didn't really care to know), before moving on to swords. She was decent, and it bumped her score up considerably.

By the time district ten came around the head gamemaker was starting to get a bit fed up. Sure, these tributes were more interesting than most years', but it really was boring after awhile. Especially when the tributes all did the same thing.

Wytt Marsuul from district ten was incredibly strong, and apparently good at decapitating dummies. He knew swordplay, and would be a strong opponent in a fight. He got a decent score.

Abigail Paige was much less entertaining. She ran around, climbed the rock wall and passed the edible plants test. She was a runner, a hider, not a fighter. No one wanted to watch that.

Archer Caladium from district eleven ran around for a bit, lifted some weights and went to, surprisingly, edible plants, which he wasn't too bad at. Still, he hadn't demonstrated any skill with a weapon, which was almost always a sign that he had none.

His district partner, Leila Edelweiss, was even worse. She did the agility course, then went to edible plants, and that was it. Another hider.

Finally, _finally_, he dismissed her and it was time for district 12. Why was he excited? Because it meant he was only thirty minutes away from leaving the training center.

The boy was a classic district 12 tribute: small, scrawny, underfed. He was agile, and surprisingly good with a spear, but still a definite bloodbath.

And then it was time for the girl. She started out with Archery, and though she missed a few times, it was clear she had done this before. She spent a few minutes there, then moved on to edible plants. Because she was the last, Saffron paid attention, and was impressed. This girl knew her stuff. She finished at swords (of course), where she picked up two wicked-looking blades that looked way too heavy for her, but managed them with ease. She sliced up a few dummies, then asked for an assistant. She was defeated the first time, but actually came back and beat the trainer the second time they fought. Wow.

After fifteen minutes, he dismissed the girl and stood up to leave. Now he'd just have to submit the scores, and he would be done for the day.

* * *

**A/N: The scores will be revealed in the next chapter. I hope everyone read my message at the beginning of the chapter about the characters.**

**Please review/follow/favourite!**


	16. Training Scores

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

"Come on, this is _boring_. Get on with it, will you?"

The entire district one team was gathered around the television, anxiously awaiting the scores that would soon show up on the screen. For now, though, they had to sit through Ceasar Flickerman talking about all this year's tributes and how well they had been doing.

Normally, Citrine wouldn't have minded. She liked to know what other people thought of her, and the information on the other tributes would be useful, but she was so anxious to know her score that she couldn't pay attention.

She was fairly confident that she had done well and at least scored an eight, but there was that nagging suspicion that the gamemakers might not have been all that impressed. What if she didn't do well? What would the careers think of her? She needed to know.

Quartz didn't look nearly as stressed, obviously. He would probably score a 12 and he knew it. Citrine felt a surge of hatred for him, and again remembered her vow to kill him in his sleep. She thought about that a lot these days.

The escort let out a squeak as Ceasar began to announce the scores. Citrine jumped and turned her attention back to the screen.

"For Quartz Ametrine from district 1, a score of... one?" He looked just as shocked as the rest of the country must be.

Citrine turned to smirk at her district partner, who looked surprised as well. Not such a good fighter after all, was he? But underneath all that, she knew it wasn't true. There had to be something wrong here. There was no way Quartz had gotten a one.

"For Citrine Opal, also from district one... A seven"

Seven. Not nearly as good as she had hoped, but better than her district partner's. It was a bad sign, though, that the gamemakers hadn't been overly impressed by her. Was she loosing her touch? Would she have trouble pulling sponsors?

"Skyler Woods, of district two... ten"

Was it just her imagination, or could Citrine hear outraged yelling coming from the floor below? She could imagine Skyler being mad about her score, as impressive as it may be. She had been set on a twelve.

"Bryce Onyx... Eleven."

Wow. Okay, so he was the one to beat. Not that that was really news. He was quite possibly the scariest of all the careers, despite how little he talked.

"Kennedia Wells, from district three... Seven."

Not bad, Citrine thought. Then she scowled as she realized that she had gotten the exact same thing. She was apparently just as good as a twelve-year-old?

Her district partner, Alectro Dawning, scored a 5. Not bad, but he wouldn't be a threat.

She paid attention as Hunter's face appeared on the screen. As annoying as he was, he was still her ally. And she needed good allies.

"Hunter Clearwater, district four... a five"

Citrine groaned, though she hadn't really expected anything better. What the career pack must look like this year.

"Lytha Mazely from district four... two"

Really? She had known it all along: The girl was totally useless. What had she done, wander around aimlessly the whole time? The only reason they were keeping her was because she was so good at fishing, and would probably die off quickly anyways. Still, it didn't make the capitol citizens too confident in the careers.

Aster Hansen of District 5 got a six, and his district partner managed to rack up an eight. They'd have to watch out for her in the arena.

"Vincent Sorel, from district six... seven."

Not bad, he might actually pose a threat. He had looked mean enough in training, and had spent most of his time at swords.

Dahlia Jade also scored an eight, though Citrine didn't remember her much from training. Odd, she must have been hiding her skills.

"Jayden Ceder from district seven... with another eight."

Citrine was starting to get mad. How had all these tributes scored higher than her? She was a career! Admittedly, she wasn't the best fighter, but she was way better than those losers! And plus, she could pull sponsors.

"Jasmine Caraway from district seven... an _eleven_."

Citrine jumped up from her couch and telled. Quartz did the same. This was totally unfair! Were the gamemakers un drugs? The girl was freaking _ten years old!_ She was cocky and proud, and thought she was way better than everyone else. She couldn't lift a sword.

"Kaspian Peryte... six"

Not too bad. Still, he was with the careers, and Citrine thought he could have done better than that.

Thalia Morgan scored a seven. Again, how on earth? It was a serious insult if that useless girl had done better than Citrine.

"Rhea Sage from district nine... five."

Citrine would have given her a two.

"Keelan Sanders, from the same district... also a five."

Impressive. He had been pretty good with that sword though, hadn't he? Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"Wytt Marsuul, from district ten... eight."

Wow. Citrine remembered his as being big and strong, so it wasn't too much of a surprise. She would have to look out for him, too.

Abigail Paige scored an unimpressive six, which made sense. Citrine didn't remember seeing much of her in training, she had hidden most of the time.

"Archer Caladium of district eleven... five"

Funny, she would have thought him capable of more than that.

"And Leila Edelweiss from the same district... four."

Not surprise there. She had spent most of her time in the survial stations, and probably wouldn't pose any threat.

Andrew Perez of district 12 got a three, one of the lowest so far, but his district partner actually managed a ten. What was she hiding?

Probably nothing, Citrine thought. After all, the gamemakers this year are all crazy. They probably just slapped on a random number for each tribute.

* * *

Tribute list, complete with training scores (Can be found on my profile):

District 1:

Girl: Citrine Opal, 16, daughter of Aphrodite. 7

Boy: Quartz Ametrine, 18, son of Zeus. 1

District 2:

Girl: Skyler Woods, 15, Daughter of Ares. 10

Boy: Bryce Onyx, 18, Son of Hades. 11

District 3:

Girl: Kennedia Wells, 12, Daughter of Athena. 7

Boy: Alectro Dawning, 17, Son of Hephaestus. 5

District 4:

Girl: Lytha Mazely, 16, Daughter of Poseidon. 2

Boy: Hunter Clearwater, 12, Son of Ares. 5

District 5:

Girl: Lyssa Columbine, 18, Daughter of Apollo. 8

Boy: Aster Hansen, 18, Son of Aphrodite. 6

District 6:

Girl: Dahlia Jade, 16, Daughter of Hermes. 8

Boy: Vincent Sorel, 15, Son of Demeter. 7

District 7:

Girl: Jasmine Caraway, 18, Daughter of Ares (Hunter of Artemis, looks 10 years old). 11

Boy: Jayden Cedar, 17, Son of Apollo. 8

District 8:

Girl: Thalia Morgan, 14, Daughter of Aphrodite. 7

Boy: Kaspian Peryte, 14, Son of Athena. 6

District 9:

Girl: Rhea Sage, 15, Daughter of Demeter. 5

Boy: Keelan Sanders, 15, Son of Hermes. 5

District 10:

Girl: Abigail Paige, 17, Daughter of Apollo. 6

Boy: Wytt Marsull, 18, Son of Ares. 8

District 11:

Girl: Leila Edelweiss, 16, Daughter of Athena. 4

Boy: Archer Caladium, 16, Son of Demeter. 5

District 12:

Girl: Melanite Endeine, 17, Daughter of Hades. 10

Boy: Andrew Jackson, 13, Son of Hephaestus. 3

* * *

**A/N: So I know that was a pretty short chapter, but it was mostly just to announce the scores. Not sure why I chose Citrine's POV, that's just how I had always imagined that chapter. I've had this done for awhile but I was without internet connection for a few days, so I couldn't upload it. Sorry about that!**

**Now, it turns out there is a little confusion over Thalia Morgan, because I used that name in another fanfic (Token). Well... this is embarrassing. I had forgotten that I had already used that name before when I invented the character. Oops. I assure you that the two characters are in no way connected, it was just a product of my forgetfulness and inability to invent new names.**

**Don't forget to leave a review!**


	17. Interviews

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

Cassie and Meli had once again snagged front-row seats to another exciting Hunger Games event: The interviews. They were dressed in matching dresses just like the ones they had worn to the parade, but this time, they were in orange and purple. Cassiterite stood out like a beacon in her luminescent outfit, but her best friend attracted her fair share of stares as well.

They were sitting in some of the best seats in the house (they'd been saving up), and Caesar Flickerman was warming up the crowd, though no one really cared. They wanted to see the tributes, already.

Cassie looked down at her notes, revising them one last time. She had her list of potential sponsors, potential bets, and comments on each one that she had written down throughout the pre-games events. She already had a pretty good idea who she would be spending her money on, but the interviews could change everything.

Finally, the music started and the tributes all walked onto the stage, sitting in three rows behind Caesar Flickerman. He welcomed the crowd (as if he hadn't just spent fifteen minutes talking), and took his seat, then called the first tribute to the stage: Citrine Opal of district one.

Cassiterite hated that girl. She was gorgeous and sexy and everything Cassie wasn't. She walked gracefully in impossibly high heels, wearing a hot pink dress - if you could even call it that. It was skimpy and revealing, and made of loose fabric that fluttered around as she moved, teasing the audience. She might as well have been wearing a couple of scarves.

The worst part? She pulled it off beautifully. She was so pretty, her makeup flawless and her hair casually swept to one side.

"So, Citrine." Caesar began. "A seven! Pretty impressive, but I've seen better from a career. Anything to say on that subject?"

She smiled glamorously and turned to face the crowd. "Well, I suppose I went about it the wrong way. I believe I made the gamemakers jealous of me! I really don't think they were being very fair this year." She giggled.

Cassie made a noise of disgust and stood up. She was thirsty, and she didn't want to sit through three minutes of this girl's stupid chatter. Besides, there wouldn't be any lineups.

It took two minutes.

When she got back, the crowd was laughing at something Citrine had just said, and Caesar asked his last question.

"So, do you have anything to say to potential sponsors?"

She flipped her hair and turned to the crowd again. "I would just be so grateful for any cent I could get, and if I won, I would make sure to thank each and every one of you... _personally_."

There was cheering and applause as the district one girl went back to her seat and it was time for her much more interesting, much more attractive, district partner.

Caesar got down to business the minute he sat down. "Now, Quartz, I know we're all thinking the same thing here: What on earth happened in training?"

It was true, they were all curious about that. He had seemed so good, so confident, definitely a fierce competitor. How had he gotten a _one_?

He threw his head back and burst out laughing, which was certainly not the reaction the crowd, or Caesar, had been anticipating.

"I'll tell you what happened: I accidentally injured a few people in training, and they figured they could intimidate me. Those guys just crack me up sometimes. It's not my fault they were all so bad I couldn't help hurting them!" He laughed again, and this time the interviewer joined in.

Something was fishy, though. Ones were extremely rare, Cassie didn't remember any tribute ever getting a score so low. The gamemakers were really after this guy, and somehow she doubted that could have been caused by just a few accidents. This guy was obviously incredibly dangerous, but it was never a good idea to bet on a tribute who had the gamemakers against him. But the crowd didn't seem to put this together as they laughed and the interview continued.

He was incredibly cocky, and absolutely convinced he would win. He didn't seem even the slightest bit worried about the gamemakers, what they might throw at him, or the other tributes. "I'd like to meet someone who could actually beat me," He said "It would be interesting."

His three minutes ended, and Skyler Woods took the stage. Now here was a tribute Cassie wanted to see. Although short, she made up for it by looking fierce and incredibly scary. Her dress was a simple red and the little make-up she had just made her look even more dangerous. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun crudely held together by a knife (Cassie hoped it was sheathed, though the girl didn't seem to care).

Caesar began by asking her if she had any victors in her family, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well my dad would have won in a heartbeat, no problem, but he never qualified. He was a little too old for that." She smirked as if she had just made a private joke. "And my mom? I left home pretty quickly, but I know she was never in the games. That doesn't affect my chances though."

"Of course, of course. Now, would you be willing to share any secrets about you strategy in the arena?"

Her face lit up at that and she went into all her strengths, her strategies, pointing out that though she was in the career pack she was sure she could do well enough without them. _Nice way to earn their trust_, Cassie thought sarcastically.

Next to take the stage was Bryce Onyx, another promising tribute. He was in a black muscle shirt that sent Cassie's heart racing, and his hair was combed, though still greasy. He was attractive in a mysterious kind of way, like he didn't really want the attention. She paid close attention to him as well.

"So, Bryce, you got the highest score this year! Mind telling us how you did it?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm nineteen; my birthday was the day after the reaping, so obviously I've had a bit more training than the others. I can tell you that I've spent a lot of time training, and I know how to wield just about any weapon."

Wow. If he was telling the truth, he would be a serious threat in the arena. She drew a star next to his name.

"Now, I know it's stupid, but you look vaguely familiar and I can't shake the feeling I've seen you before. And your last name - Onyx, I've heard that from somewhere. Do you have a brother or sister that was in the games? Or any other relative?"

Now that Cassie thought about it, he did seem vaguely familiar. Onyx, Onyx... Like Natalie Onyx? The name rang a bell, but she couldn't quite place it.

His expression was unreadable. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He said "I have no family."

Caesar seemed to get the message, and changed the subject abruptly, but the crowd obviously wasn't paying any attention. Of course he had a family, but what had he meant? Maybe he had never met any of his relatives? If so, why? Or maybe he had run away, and didn't like to think about them?

When his time was up, Cassie made another note to watch out for him. He would certainly be worth spending money on.

The girl from three didn't look like anything special, and never had. She had jet-black hair and stormy gray eyes, accentuated by the silver dress she wore. She looked delicate, not like someone who belonged in the arena. And yet she held her head high and met Caesar's eyes, answering all his questions with confidence and even a little fierceness. She may be physically weak, but she was a fighter. She wasn't afraid of the games. Either that, or she was a really good actress.

When Caesar asked her about her strengths, she smiled slyly and answered "Well, I can't give away too much, but I'm very smart, if I may say so myself, so I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I'm also very agile and I do know how to handle a weapon."

"Ooooh" Caesar said, looking at the crowd "This one is not to be overlooked! I wish you good luck in the games, Kennedia Wells, and May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor!"

The crowd cheered as she took her seat, but Cassie wasn't overly impressed. She might actually stand a chance, but she was much too small to be a victor.

Her district partner, Alectro Dawning, was unremarkable. He was unattractive, scrawny and nervous and talked mostly about his family. When asked about his skills, said that he was good with tools and electricity.

Lytha Mazely from district four was easily distracted. She kept trailing off in the middle of her sentence or changing the subject abruptly, and it was clear that Caesar was having trouble with her. When asked about her disappointing training score, she shrugged and answered that she had plenty of skills, they just must not have been what the gamemakers were looking for. Well, that made no sense at all. Cassie had dismissed her long ago, and she did not go back on her decision.

Hunter Clearwater was incredibly amusing: she could say that much. He bounced around in his seat like he couldn't sit still, talking so quickly it was sometimes hard to understand what he was saying. Each time Caesar Flickerman managed to squeeze in a question, he answered with a thirty-second monologue. Apparently, he came from a family of victors (Winners of the first two hunger games, who had been in quite a rush to have kids), and was absolutely certain he would win.

"I'm meant for it" He said, when asked about his chances "My parents won, so did my brother and sister, and I just feel ready. I don't think I need any more training: None of my siblings waited until they were eighteen, and I don't need to either. I feel like I've reached my full potential and more training would be useless."

The guy was a total idiot and one of the stupidest tributes the capitol had ever hosted. No one in the crowd believed him; he stood no chance at all.

Lyssa Columbine was pretty enough, and seemed at ease in front of the crowd, but she had never really seemed like a competitor. She told Caesar that she loved music and poetry and was a very good singer. He even got her to sing a few verses of some song Cassie didn't recognize (probably from her district), and she hadn't been lying; she was good. She seemed like a pleasant girl to have as a victor, maybe she would be worth a bit of sponsorship money... But those talents wouldn't come in handy in the arena. Still, the gamemakers didn't hand out eights to just anyone, she must have some hidden talents.

Her district partner was drop-dead gorgeous, there was no better way to describe him. He had ruffled blond hair and blue eyes and a cheeky smile that said he was up to something. Aster smiled and winked at the crowd, answering each question easily. He sounded pretty confident in his abilities for someone who had scored lower than the district one airhead, but he also seemed aware of the dangers of the arena, which was more than Cassie could say about many of the other tributes. Oh, he was so smart! He would certainly be worth sponsoring, she would love for him to win, but she didn't think he would be worth a bet. He wasn't _that_ good.

Dahlia Jade from district six, on the other hand, might be worth a bet. She was pretty big, quite muscular, and clearly took the games quite seriously. With the eight she had gotten, she obviously had some hidden talents and would be a fierce competitor.

But what really made her stand out was her answer when she was asked what she thought her chances were.

She sighed. "Honestly? I don't know, Caesar. I know I stand a decent chance, but I've seen some fierce competitors here. I'll do the best I can, but no one can guarantee victory. In fact, I think four people already have, which I find a bit odd. Obviously, at least three people were wrong."

He laughed, and concluded her interview. "Well, I wish you the best of luck, Miss Dahlia Jade!"

She took her seat and the next tribute, Vincent Sorel, took the stage. Judging by his answers, he was fiercely determined to win for reasons unknown, and would do everything it took to survive.

"Even kill other tributes?" Caesar asked.

"Especially that" He answered, smiling.

"Now, I'm curious here: What is the first thing you'll do after you win - if you do, of course."

His smile got even wider. "I was hoping you'd ask that. You see, it's a bit of a long story, but I'm sure we have enough time. When I was really little, about six years old, my dad was murdered by president Snow right before my eyes. I'm guessing it was for rebellious action, since he hated the capitol and I wholeheartedly agreed with him, but I didn't really agree with his punishment. So the first thing I will do when win is get my revenge by assassinating the president!"

He said it all cheerfully, as if he were merely recounting an exciting day, but the crowd went silent. Caesar tried to feign calm, but was clearly terrified. The cameras cut to Snow, who was totally poker-faced.

Oh. My. God. How stupid was this kid? Secretly planning a rebellion was one thing, but announcing your plans to the whole country? This guy was going to get himself killed without ever putting his plans to action, no doubt about it. Unless he had shared his secret thinking that he wouldn't get out alive, and wanting the citizens to stage this revolution? Well, if he thought that would work, he really was mental.

When Caesar finally found his voice, he stood up abruptly. "Well, it looks like we've run out of time! A shame, it really was nice interviewing you. Bye!"

Not subtle at all, but what could he have said? Good luck, you'll need it? That could have been interpreted wrong. Cassie had never seen Mr. Flickerman so unnerved.

Not many tributes would want to follow that up, but dainty Jasmine Caraway seemed completely undaunted. She wore a light green, pixish dress that went down to her knees, but she didn't seem very happy about it. It was supposed to make her look cute, but the look of pure loathing she shot at her stylist (which was returned) kind of ruined the effect. Her hair was undone, curly, and slightly messy. Balanced on her head was a silver crown that matched the outfit (odd that she'd kept that), and her feet were... bare? Apparently, she hadn't liked her shoes either. Sure enough, there was a pair of green flats just barely visible under her chair. But she walked with her head held high and with an air of confidence that made even that look glamorous.

She took her seat, and Caesar seemed to register her outfit immediately. The poor guy didn't want to deal with another rebel, but he persisted anyways.

"So Jasmine, you have made quite the impression already! I know we've all been waiting to hear from you, so tell me; How did you do it?"

She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "You mean the training score? Frankly, I don't you why you're all so surprised, I expected at least that. I won't reveal what I did, but I can honestly say that I am a force to contend with. Being small has it's advantages."

"So you're good at hiding?"

"Gods, no!" she exclaimed, horrified. "I might hide out on occasion, but I will be in on the action. Though only when my chances are good, of course."

Wow. She was not turning out how Cassie had expected. Caesar continued to ask her questions and she answered with confidence and pride. When he asked her who she was worried about in the arena, she responded that all the girls would be tough competition, then wrinkled her nose and added that the "stupid" boys would all kill each other off quickly enough, which probably won her a few enemies. As in, twelve enemies. Well, she was barely twelve years old; maybe she was a little late getting over the whole "boys have cooties" fase.

Maybe she wouldn't be a bad choice for sponsorship, but Cassie had seen more promising tributes.

After that, her district partner, Jayden Cedar, just seemed... boring. Poor him. He was nervous in front of the crowd and, honestly, seemed a bit wimpy. He talked a lot about his home and the mockingjays there, and how he really wanted to get back as soon as possible. He tried to act brave and determined but Cassie just wasn't buying it. But he had gotten an eight, and he was apparently good with a bow, an axe, and was the best healer in his district. An odd combination, but incredibly useful in the arena. He had the skills, but not the guts.

Thalia Morgan from district eight got a standing ovation just for getting out of her seat, and Cassie couldn't blame them. She was the daughter of an incredibly popular clothing designer, and one of the best stories in the capitol: how a poor, worthless peasant had been promoted by the capitol's incredible generosity. This girl was famous.

And indeed, one of the first questions she was asked was about her father.

"You look lovely today!" Caesar said as she took her seat, and it was true. She was wearing a long, flower print dress that suited her perfectly, and her hair was done up in a loose braid. Cassie had seen her often enough on television, but done up by the capitol, she was even prettier.

"Though, of course, that dress is nothing like anything your father could make." He continued.

"Well, I would have made a few adjustments, but that's just me. I would have liked it to be a bit simpler."

They talked for a bit about fashion, which the crowd just ate up, then moved on to the actual games. She seemed pleased with her score, and hinted at secret abilities.

"Remember that my father was reaped," she said "He wouldn't let his only daughter go completely unable to defend herself."

They continued to talk, and Cassie admired how at ease the girl seemed in front of a crowd. She came across as bubbly and likeable, and made nice, light conversation. The capitol clearly adored her.

Cassie liked her too, but she wasn't willing to put any money into her. She just didn't seem like someone who would do well in the games and as much as she would like to meet Thalia Morgan personally, she would much rather a cute guy.

Kaspian Peryte, the guy with the fancy name that he didn't really live up to, was next. He seemed pretty nervous, but he hid it well, and came across as smart and level-headed. He said that he wasn't going to win these games by chance, and he intended to fight with everything he had. He said that he knew how to wield a weapon (just like every other tribute in the games. Cassie wondered how many of them could actually fight), but his main strength was strategy. He actually had the nerve to hint that some of the tributes were not very intelligent, and that he could beat them easily. Then Caesar asked him if he had made any alliances.

"Yes, actually, I am in with the career pack. I can't deny they're a strong group and I plan to stick with them as long as it's safe."

Interesting. So despite the six he had gotten, he had still made an alliance with the most powerful tributes in the arena? Maybe his chances were a little better than Cassie had originally thought.

Fifteen-year-old Rhea Sage appeared kind and innocent, laughing and joking around with Caesar, but she looked strong enough to be worth something. Cassie couldn't help noticing that she was a bit tense, but who could blame her? She said that she was a pretty good fighter, but her specialty was survival, so she might actually be a pretty fierce competitor. Then Caesar asked her about her thoughts on going into the arena.

"It's going to be tough, and even if I survive, I might never be the same person, but I'm determined. I know I have the skills, and I know I could have done better than a five, and I'm not going down without a fight."

The crowd cheered and Caesar stood up, taking her hand and wishing her good luck in the arena. She took her seat, and Keelan Sanders took the stage.

He was a troublemaker, no doubt about it. He spend most of his three minutes making cheesy jokes and talking about the pranks he had played on his friends and how those skills would help him in the arena. He was an expert at sneaking around, he said, and knew all the best ways to trap a human being. He even promised an amusing and humiliating death for all of his victims.

He really was cute, and funny. He would be great to have around and would certainly pull plenty of sponsors. But a five in training? Cassie had seen better.

Abigail Paige of district 10 didn't talk much, but she seemed good enough. She had been made up by her prep team and her hair had been trimmed, so she at least looked decent, but they hadn't been able to take care of how thin she was. She was apparently good with a few weapons, though she wouldn't say which ones, and could hide and survive in the wild. A fairly average tribute, then.

She looked on the verge of tears the whole time, and her eyes darted around the room nervously. Altogether, she was pretty unimpressive, and Cassie would not be putting any money into her.

Her district partner was a little more promising, with his eight in training, which was explained by his bulky physique.

He stated right away that he was a butcher, and would have no problem killing anyone. He said that he didn't intend to torture any tributes, that wasn't the way he worked, but he would be perfectly willing to kill anyone that got in his way. That was good; it meant he would be a big threat, with no risk of going crazy or wasting time causing pain like some tributes would (*cough cough* Skyler Woods). Finally, Caesar asked him about the thing they had all been wondering about.

"So, will you be joining the career pack?"

"No," He answered "they didn't seem interested in me in training. I'm fine either way really, I'm not too scared of those guys."

And tada! He officially had six new enemies! Wow, he was not as smart as he seemed. Saying that you're not afraid of the most powerful tributes in the arena might seem brave, but it was a sure way to make yourself a target, and to get yourself killed.

The next tribute was Leila Edelweiss, whom Cassie was not particularly interested in. She talked a lot about her family (two brothers and two sisters, yikes!) and friends and her life at home in general. She seemed to win over the crowd with her miserable life and fierce determination to get back and help her family. She certainly had the attitude for the games. She didn't talk much about skills, beyond saying that she was good a survival and had learned a lot in training. Until Caesar asked her about her thoughts on going into the arena.

She turned to address the crowd. "I'm scared, I'll admit it. Terrified, even, but so is every single person going into the arena, even if I'm the only one brave enough to admit it. It's life or death out there and I know my chances are slim, but don't think that will stop me from trying my very best."

She might have gone on, but that was when the buzzer sounded, announcing the end of the three minutes. The girl was smart, possibly the smartest in the arena, and she had something to fight for. Cassie liked her, and would have to look out for her, but she didn't think the girl was worth her money either.

Her district partner was more promising, despite the five he had gotten. The prep team hadn't quite managed to cover up all his scars, but it just made him look all the more threatening. He talked enthusiastically about going into the arena, and said that he was really strong and great at hand-to-hand combat. He seemed genuinely excited about the games and happy to be there, which was a nice change from the rest. Still, he didn't look like he would last long.

After that, Caesar concluded the interview, and the second-to-last tribute took the stage: Melanite Endeine, who looked pretty scary in her outfit. She was in a long black dress accented by small red gems at the hem that matched the miniature swords dangling from her ears. She was wearing a lot of makeup, especially eyeliner, she had long, fake eyelashes, and her hair was simply swept to one side. She wasn't particularly pretty, but she definitely didn't look like someone you wanted to come across in the arena.

She took her seat and flashed a smile at the crowd, only to turn back to the interviewer.

"So Melanite, You've made quite the impression these games, haven't you? I know we're all excited to have you here today!"

"Thank you, I'm very happy to be here, too. Not that I had a choice, though."

The crowd laughed. "Well, it's good to know that you're excited for the games," Caesar said "Not everyone is. How prepared are you?"

She got the hint right away. "I am very prepared, and I can tell you that my ten in training was not a fluke. I'm flattered that the gamemakers thought I was that good, but yes, I do have a few skills."

They continued to talk about the games, and the more they talked, the scarier the girl seemed. It wasn't that she was big and intimidating and convinced of victory like the careers, she was more quiet and powerful, with a god-like aura that said you shouldn't mess with her. The skills of the district 12 stylists hadn't exactly been demonstrated in the opening ceremonies, but this year's were quite good. They seemed to capture the girl's attitude perfectly in the dress, probably winning her a whole lot of sponsors.

When she was done, Cassie and Meli turned to look at each other. There was one more tribute, yes, but was he really worth sticking around for? He was scrawny, scared, and would definitely not be getting out of that arena alive. Besides, if they left now, they could avoid the traffic.

* * *

As they walked back, they discussed their sponsorship and betting choices. "I'm putting my money on that district one boy, Quartz." Meli said "Can you believe what the gamemakers did to him? So unfair! What about you?"

"For betting? Bryce Onyx, he's much better. And less cocky. Honestly, you never know what Quartz would have gotten had the gamemakers not been against him, whereas Bryce... he's definitely got an eleven."

"Oh please! Quartz would have gotten a twelve, no doubt about it! Who are you sponsoring?"

Cassie didn't need to think about that one; it was obvious. "Aster Hansen, of course! He's gorgeous!"

Meli snorted. "I've seen better. I'm going for Thalia Morgan. Just imagine the benefits if she wins! I could get to meet her, and maybe even her dad, and it's possible he'll give me a discount on clothing!"

She sighed, but her friend's choices weren't too bad. Who knows? Maybe one of them would get lucky and choose a winner. She would just have to wait and see.

* * *

**A/N: There will be one more chapter before they enter the arena, just giving you a heads-up.**

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	18. Into the Arena

**A/N: This chapter is just three short one-shots leading up to the arena, all taking place between the night of the interviews and the morning of training. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

Kaspian Peryte stood on the roof of the training center, leaning on the railing and watching the capitol. He had found the stairs by accident while wandering the halls late at night, driven mad with insomnia. He liked it here, and wished he had discovered it sooner. He felt like it was the one place he could go to escape the cameras and the constant surveillance. Here, he could look down on the parties and parades in the capitol and pretend he had nothing to do with them.

His thoughts were disrupted by the soft patter of footsteps behind him. He sighed, but didn't turn around. There were plenty of people it could be, and none of them good. Probably a peacekeeper come to tell him to get back to bed.

But the person moved to stand beside him, silently leaning over the railing, and he realized with a shock who it was.

Thalia Morgan.

"Peaceful, isn't it? I've been coming up here every night since we arrived." She said. He just nodded, and subtly inched away from her. She should not be here.

"I've been trying to get a chance to talk to you since we arrived, but you keep avoiding me." She turned to look at him, silently asking for an explanation.

He sighed. "You know why" He answered, still carefully avoiding her eyes.

"No, actually, I don't. Or at least any explanation I can think of doesn't make sense. We've been good friends for years, and in all that time I've known you you have never, ever, passed up a chance to talk to me. And now when I need you the most, you're pushing me away."

This time he did turn to face her, and tried not to be distracted. They were _way_ too close for comfort, and she looked very good with her hair down. It took him a second to remember what he had been about to say.

"Thalia, you're not allowed to need anyone in these games; it's everyone for themselves. I wish there were a way for you to survive, but we're enemies now, and I can't afford to worry about you all the time, much less get upset over your death." He knew he was being pretty cruel, but it was necessary if he was going to push her away once and for all.

"If you're saying you don't want allies-"

"I have allies! And they'll be a whole lot more useful than you would be!"

There was a long pause. She just stared at him for a few seconds, making him feel pretty uncomfortable, before she finally spoke, and this time her voice was barely above a whisper.

"They won't protect you, you know. The careers. They'll kill you in your sleep."

"And why would you care?" He snapped.

"Because if I don't win, I hope you do, and I don't think you're making the smartest decision." She replied calmly.

"My mother is the goddess of wisdom, I'm sure my decisions are much more thought out than yours are." He answered coldly "I don't care about any of my allies, therefore I won't mind when they get killed. Whereas if you were my ally, as you seem to be suggesting…" He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was implied.

"If you care so much about me, won't you be upset by my death no matter what? Won't you worry about me even more if you don't know where I am at all times?"

He smiled despite himself. "Don't flatter yourself"

She threw her hands up in exasperation, but even she couldn't suppress a smile. "Well, you've been saying the same thing! And besides, I'm sure I would feel the same way."

They both looked down at the capitol again, thinking. Thalia had a point. Her death would be hard on him, no matter what. And out of all the tributes in the arena, there was no one he would rather have watching his back. He trusted her, more than he trusted any of the other tributes. But still…

"You're pretty wise for an Aphrodite girl"

She nudged him playfully "And you're pretty cute for an Athena kid"

He turned away, feeling his face heat up, and she seemed to realize her mistake. "No, I meant... I mean… Not that way, but…" she stammered

He laughed nervously. "It's okay, I know what you meant."

She exhaled. "Anyways… allies?" She held out her hand.

Kaspian hesitated. His problems were a lot more complicated than she realized, and he was worried that his feelings might grow stronger the more time he spent with her. He put his own life above hers, but what if that changed?

He took her hand. "Allies."

* * *

With trembling fingers, Rhea Sage managed to pin back the last bit of hair too short to fit in her braid. She knew that it was pointless to get herself ready, her stylist and prep team would just undo it, but she had to do _something_ productive. She'd tried to sleep, she really had, but to no avail. She'd tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up. Now, her clock read 2:16 a.m.

Her reflexion in the mirror was pale, with baggy, bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. She was sure her prep team could fix that. Did they prepare the tributes the morning of the games? Honestly, she didn't really care.

She whipped her head around as a sound came from outside her door. Was it just her imagination, or had she heard footsteps? She froze for a second, listening intently, but no sound came.

Still, she was curious, and she needed something to do. She stood up from her chair and made her way over to the door. She stood on her tiptoes to look through the peephole. But instead of seeing the empty hallway, she saw a human eye staring back at her.

Without meaning to, she screamed and jumped back. She heard a crash from the other end, and threw open the door only to nearly collide with her brother.

For a brief moment, they just stared at each other. Rhea hadn't really gotten a good look at Keelan since the reaping, and he didn't look much better than she did; The lack of sleep and the stress had clearly gotten to him.

"Oh. I am so sorry I really didn't mean to disturb you I was just wondering if the peephole thing worked both ways or-" he babbled.

"You were trying to look into my room?"

His eyes widened and he threw up his hands. "No no no, I didn't mean it like that. I was just wondering if you were awake. I know, it's stupid. Never mind." He started to walk away, but Rhea caught his arm.

"Wait. I know dad said we should avoid each other, but… we never really got a chance to say goodbye. Can't we just talk a little bit?" She knew it was stupid and totally against what her dad had told her, but she was really scared and she just needed someone to talk to at this point. She needed her brother.

"Oh, okay. I guess there's no harm in talking." Was it just wishful thinking, or did he look relieved? He sat down against the wall beside her bedroom door and motioned for her to do the same. After a moment of hesitation, she sank down next to him.

"So…" She struggled to find a good conversation starter. "How've you been?"

He almost laughed. "Not great. You?"

"Same." She played with the end of her braid. So much for that idea.

Keelan nudged her playfully. "So, a five? Not bad…"

She smiled. "Clearly not, as you got the same thing."d

"Ah, but you see, the gamemakers always overlook survival stuff. The fact that you got the same score as I did just shows that you impressed the gamemakers _almost_ as much as I did, plus you have super awesome talents that I could never dream of. Which means that theoretically, you did better than me."

She laughed. "If only I'd said that in my interview. Might have gained me a few sponsors, if only for the wit and humor."

"That you don't actually have"

"Exactly." Keelan would certainly get plenty of sponsors, but Rhea wasn't too confident in her chances. Even if her brother considered her better than him, she doubted the whole country shared his opinion.

"You know what I just realized?" She said

"What?"

"That that was the first time you ever admitted I did better than you."

He laughed. "Don't get used to it, little sis."

Her smile immediately faded. "I won't get the chance." She whispered. They descended into an uncomfortable silence.

"Look, I really didn't mean it that way-"

"No, of course you didn't. But that doesn't change anything." He had reminded her of the seriousness of their situation, and of what they were doing. She stood up slowly and turned to face him. "It was nice talking to you."

He nodded, and stood up as well. "My pleasure. Good luck in the games… I guess. At least if I don't win, I hope you do."

"Right back at you." She held her arms out awkwardly and he hugged her, though briefly. With a small wave, he disappeared down the hall, and she stepped back into her bedroom.

* * *

Aspen Burdock was totally discouraged. A full hour, and not a single sponsor for either of his tributes- not that he had expected any. Plenty of people had come to talk to, or rather, laugh at, him, but none had had even a single penny to spare. Unless you counted the one totally inebriated man who had come to offer up a mere 10, which Aspen did not.

He knew that this job was usually reserved for the mentors, but Mags hadn't been in the best shape this morning, and he didn't really trust Hunter's dad. Besides, he liked to feel useful, so that when his tributes died, the guilt would be somewhat subdued. It was a strategy he had picked up before the games had even started, when he had worked as a protector for young demigods.

Well, he could certainly say that he had tried his best. This year, the satyr had done everything in his power to wrack up a few sponsors for his pathetic tributes, but to no avail. They were on their own now, and Aspen didn't like their chances. The plus side, though, was that they were with the careers, as shaky as the alliance was. That was cause for at least a little hope, right?

He didn't feel particularly attached to either of his tributes this year, but that didn't mean he wouldn't help them. Hunter was insufferably annoying, and Lytha… she knew too much, and didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word "secret". But they were only children, and demigods at that- he couldn't let any more demigods die.

But from the looks of things, many would have to. The training center positively reeked of half-bloods, and he had identified almost all of the tributes as such. How was that possible? What in Panem had happened? Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't Lytha.

But he couldn't think of that just yet; he had more important things to worry about. In only ten minutes, the tributes would all be entering the arena.

The giant screen in front of him displayed Caesar Flickerman and Saffron Galloway talking about the arena and this year's games.

"... They're going to be pretty interesting, Caesar," Saffron was saying. "We've got a very special group of tributes, and the President has had a lot of say in how these games have turned out. I can only imagine he's trying to make my job a bit easier, since it's my first year."

Ha. As if. Aspen really didn't care what Snow was up to, but he could imagine he was getting bored. Still, why interfere so much with the games? It just didn't seem like his style. Galloway was right about one thing, though; the tributes this year were _very_ special. In ways he could never imagine.

The huge crowd that had gathered at the square was just eating all this up, eagerly anticipating the start of the games.

8 minutes.

7.

6.

5.

The tension was building, the people crowding even closer to the television. They didn't care about the pre-game show; they wanted to see the arena.

Four minutes, and the tributes would no longer be safe.

Sponsorship was abandoned, at least for now. No one wanted to miss a single second, everyone wanted a good spot.

Three minutes.

Once the bloodbath was over, the lines would be endless for the tables with living tributes. The question was which ones those would be.

Two minutes.

Hunter was surely even more excited than these people were. It was a shame his life would be so short.

One minute.

How would Lytha fare? Would she zone out? Would she make it past the first few minutes?

Zero.

The camera lifted into the arena. For a second all they could see was the blinding sun, before it switched to an overhead view and the sixty-second countdown began.

Once Aspen got a proper look at the arena, his jaw dropped. His eyes widened in shock and horror.

"Oh, Shit" he whispered.

The tributes were standing in the ruins of ancient Greece.

* * *

**A/N: Please review, it means a lot to me!**

**So, this was basically just a bunch of ideas I couldn't get out of my head, but I hope they were decent. And I hope that last part was as much fun to read as it was for me to write!**

**Interesting to see how many people support Jasmine, I think we have a clear favourite... I won't say anything!**

**And I should mention that school started this week, so I will try to update as often as possible, but I can't promise anything.**


	19. Bloodbath

**A/N: This chapter is mostly where the T-rating comes in. It's the bloodbath, so obviously there is a lot of violence.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

It was chaos in the throne room. The gods were yelling at the screen, breaking things, furious and, for once in their lives, incomprehending. What was going on? Did it mean something? Or could it possibly have been a coincidence?

A pretty big coincidence, thought Athena, since all the tributes are demigods. She knew something was up, she sensed a war approaching, but it wasn't time to interfere. Not yet. And all the gods seemed to understand this, as none of them had destroyed the arena yet. They liked the games too much.

Five seconds had passed, fifty-five more to go before the tributes could leave their plates. They were all observing their surroundings, deciding where they should go. They all looked pretty shocked, but you could never tell what that was about when the tributes were already in the arena. Subtle messages were being passed between allies; nods in the direction they wanted to go; feet pointed a certain way. But none knew if their ally, or even themselves, would even make it past the first few seconds. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp on both sides of the television in the throne room as Quartz Ametrine stupidly decided to leave his plate.

Except that he didn't blow up. Zeus laughed out loud as the hero used the winds to lift himself off the ground and, awkwardly trying to look like he was running, took off in the direction of the cornucopia. Once there, he let himself down, grabbed a bunch of weapons, and stood facing the others, assessing his surroundings.

As unfair as it was, Athena couldn't help thinking of the capitol citizens. How flabbergasted they must be! The gamemakers had no power to detonate the bombs once they had been planted, so they must all think it was a malfunction. A lucky one, for Quartz. Maybe his supposed stupidity would lose him a few sponsors. Hopefully, that might deflate Zeus' head a bit and give Athena's own children an even better chance. Not that they really needed the odds in their favour if they wanted to win.

The other tributes were confused, many of them wondering if they should try the same thing, though a good number of them had probably figured it out by now. Skyler Woods, for example, looked ready to forget her alliance and murder him on the spot. But Athena was pleased to see that her three children were ignoring the son of Zeus and instead focusing on the arena.

Now that she got a better look, she could see that the gamemakers hadn't been completely accurate in recreating Athens. The capitol citizens, and maybe even the tributes, might buy it, but for someone who had actually seen it... it was _so_ incorrect! The tributes were standing in a circle outside the ruins of the Theatre of Dionysus (which had been placed closer to the city walls than it was supposed to), in the middle of which sat the cornucopia. The stage was littered with weapons and survival tools, as well as some useless theatre props, and the tributes were all wearing… Oh gods. Orange t-shirts (thankfully blank), and shorts. What was up with this? Who had created the arena? Someone was trying to convey a message, and the gods didn't like it.

But now wasn't the time to think of that. Whatever happened, would happen. There was nothing the gods could do about it, so they might as well just enjoy the games. Besides, wouldn't this make them particularly interesting? A competition between the children of the gods...

The ruins of simple houses and buildings spanned for miles. Athena could make out the Acropolis and the Parthenon, the Ilissos river running outside the defensive walls, The temple of Hephaestus, The Temple of Zeus, and many other landmarks. Unfortunately, none were in very good shape. Even the various other buildings were almost completely destroyed. The tributes would have trouble finding a place intact enough to serve as a shelter. She could also recognize the four mountains and the hills, as well as the few small forests. It was all familiar, yet not. At least they seemed to have gotten the climate right; the tributes were all sweating, though that could have just been because of how nervous they were.

Finally, the gong rang, and all hell broke loose.

As soon as the rebel from six, Vincent Sorel, stepped off his plate, there was a huge explosion as he was blown sky high. It appeared the president had been so unnerved by the death threats, he had "forgotten" to deactivate those bombs. What a convenient accident.

The first kill of the games was made by Skyler Woods as she tackled the boy from twelve before he could even get onto the stage. He screamed and begged for mercy, but she broke his neck with a single flick of her wrist. She then moved on to run to the cornucopia, grab a sword, and join the fight.

Athena's children were doing okay, so far. Kennedia had managed to grab matches, a loaf of bread, and a first aid kit before darting out into the ruined city, staying low and running as quickly as she could. So far, she hadn't been seen.

Leila Edelweiss had done approximately the same thing but come out with a backpack and knife and gone in the opposite direction. At least she was safe. Kaspian, upon seeing the stairs he would have to run down in order to get to the stage, had done the wise thing in turning around and running straight for the city.

Ares' screams of joy were interrupted by Hermes' cry as his favourite daughter, Dahlia Jade, was tackled by Skyler. The career, clearly enjoying herself immensely, whispered something her her ear before slitting her throat. Pity, Athena had liked that girl. For her sake, she hoped Skyler and killed her quickly. It was quite possible she wasn't dead yet. Unfortunately for Hermes, his other kid, Keelan, wasn't doing too well either. He had attacked Hunter, the annoying Ares kid, and managed to wrestle the guy's sword away from him. Then - here comes the stupid part - he ran off, leaving Hunter completely unscathed. Ugh. Coward.

Citrine had grabbed a bunch of knives, and stayed mostly out of the way of the battle to throw them. One hit Lytha Mazely squarely in the shoulder as she was trying to get away with a spear. She fell to the ground but got up and stumbled away, gushing blood, leaving a huge, very obvious trail. The wound was clearly deep; she wouldn't last long. Down with Kelp head's only spawn!

Citrine clearly thought she was dead enough, because her next knife was aimed at Jayden Cedar, unintentionally saving the life of Lyssa Columbine. The girl had grabbed the bow that he had clearly wanted, and Jayden had done the only logical thing; attacked her. What Athena didn't get was why he had needed that weapon, when he already had a perfectly good axe in his hand. Her arm cut open and bleeding, the shellshocked girl just sat there for a second, trembling and staring at his body with wide eyes. Finally, she snapped out of it and slung her bow over her shoulder. After a second of hesitation, she grabbed his bloodstained axe and ran for the ruined city. Good. This girl was a worthy ally of Athena's daughter, even if she was a little afraid.

The other bow was claimed by Abigail Paige of district seven, but she didn't make it far before she was killed by Bryce, who was hacking away at the tributes with his sword, and doing incredibly well. He got into a fight with Archer Caladium, but it didn't last long. The district eleven boy was severely outmatched.

The careers were really looking like a powerhouse this year, or at least some of them. Alectro Dawning and Thalia Morgan had both been killed easily by Quartz early on. Athena didn't really care much about the first, but she was relieved, for the sake of Kaspian, that Thalia had been taken care of quickly. Aphrodite had been squealing about them lately, and it had been making her nervous.

Rhea Sage was safe; she had taken off early on, not bothering with supplies. However, she appeared to be alone. Jasmine Caraway and Melanite Endeine had done the same, running in the direction of a gap in the wall. Past that, they would find the river, as well as a small forest. Easily the best place to be in the arena.

The bloodbath was starting to die down, now. The careers were all alive, with the exception of Aster Hansen, who had been killed by Wytt Marsuul while looking for a weapon. His murderer had managed to escape to the ruins with a sword and coil of rope.

Finally, nine cannons went off. Nine bodies lay on the bloodstained stage of the theatre of Dionysus. That meant that Lytha hadn't died yet, but the careers would be after her soon. Athena felt a surge of pride as she realized that all of her children were still alive and in the game.

Once all the other tributes were either dead or out of sight, the careers gathered at the cornucopia. Quartz had a gash on his cheek, Bryce's arm was pretty bloody, Hunter was trying hard to conceal a limp. Citrine was infuriatingly uninjured besides a bit of dirt on her face. Skyler's forehead was bleeding a lot, but she looked maniacally excited - that is, until she saw Quartz.

She marched right up to him and punched him squarely in the jaw. If it weren't for the shock, he probably would have been able to block it, but he didn't have time to react. She punched him again in the chest, but he grabbed her arm after that. She didn't seem to care.

"What the hell? I can't believe you! You-" She kicked him in he shins, once "Stupid-" again "Cheater! You wanna play these games, you play them fairly, Quartz Ametrine! You are such a pathetic loser that you can't even kill a tribute without using you stupid Zeus powers!" She kept on punching and kicking him, spouting out a series of swear words so foul that Ares started clapping and cheering.

Eventually, she seemed to calm down and Quartz was able to push her away, smirking. She rounded on her allies, glaring, daring any of them to challenge her. Thankfully, no one did. She took a deep breath.

"Everyone, grab some weapons. I need to strangle someone, and unfortunately, It can't be you guys."

It was then that Hunter spoke up. "But I wanted to kill the next tribute! You guys never even gave me a chance during the bloodbath!" He sounded like a whiny three-year-old.

Skyler marched up to him, and twisted his arm painfully behind his back. "Listen, _brother_" she snarled, just loud enough for the microphones to pick up "We don't need you, but you need us, so you'd better do what we say and let us do the killing. _Or else." _He nodded weakly and she let him go, then stalked off to the cornucopia.

"Wait." They all turned to look at Citrine, who had had the courage to contradict Skyler's decision. "We'll never get anywhere in this state, and besides, the tributes couldn't have gone far. I say we stay behind and clean up first, then go hunting."

There was a pause. "Fine" Skyler finally answered "Go wash you face, princess, I'll be over there packing the bags."

She marched off to the cornucopia, and the others went around looking for first-aid kits.

Meanwhile, the camera switched to the other tributes.

* * *

Lytha was just barely hanging on. She was slumped against the wall at the city limits, sobbing, clearly unable to go any farther. She had used the knife to cut off a strip of her t-shirt, but didn't seem able to bandage her wound properly. It was in an awkward spot, and it probably hurt a lot to try to reach it. She was still bleeding, and had left a trail leading to her exact location.

The river wasn't far, but in the state she was in, Athena didn't think she would have the strength to reach it. That was probably her destination; as a daughter of Poseidon, she could locate water from just about anywhere, and it would be able to heal her. If only she could make it that far…

From the looks of it, Citrine had been aiming for the tribute nearest Lytha, but had hit her ally by accident. Lytha, thinking the careers had turned on her, had sought out the safety of the river instead of staying behind with them, even though they had supplies that could have healed her. A costly misunderstanding, but the girl probably wouldn't have stood a chance anyways.

The gamemakers probably thought she was pretty much dead, because the camera switched to Kaspian Peryte, who was still running through the city, perfectly fine. He looked worried, though, as he should be. He didn't have any supplies. As he ran through the houses, he looked around for anything he could use, but didn't find any. It was going to be a long night for him.

Leila was also running through the ruins, but far from Kaspian. She seemed to be following the wall, though still keeping a safe distance. Probably looking for another gap, farther down. At least she had her backpack with who knows what in it, and a knife. A weapon was always useful. She looked around cautiously, on the alert, but didn't see or hear anything. Good. She was doing everything right; maybe she had more potential than the gamemakers seemed to think.

Not far from her, Melanite and Jasmine were already in the small forest and far away from the cornucopia. They had stopped running, and were now walking through carefully. Jasmine had her bow out, which really seemed to confuse the commentators.

"I'm telling you Caesar, that is not a capitol bow!"

"But it has to be, where else could she have gotten it?"

"I don't know! Look, she didn't even go to the cornucopia!"

They replayed the footage of her turning on her heel and taking off for the city limits.

"Maybe she _made_ it? She must be some craftsman."

They continued with their theories, puzzling over her weapon, while the girls hunted. They didn't have any supplies besides the bow, but they didn't look like they needed anything. Well, of course, Jasmine was a hunter, but Melanite? Athena was curious about her…

Wytt was nothing special, hiding out in a relatively intact building. He had his sword and rope, which was more than most tributes, and had proven that he knew how to use the weapon. He was pretty far away from the others (He was a really good runner), so it looked like he would at least last the night.

Keelan had a sword, but nothing else. It wouldn't help him much when it came to survival, so he would have to be pretty good at finding food and building fires. Not to mention water. He was walking carefully through the ruins, trying not to make much sound, and probably looking for a good shelter.

Rhea wasn't too far ahead of him, doing pretty much the same thing. She didn't have much in the way of supplies, but had managed to find some edible berries, and was munching on them as she walked.

Kennedia and Lyssa were also pretty close together, but didn't appear to notice it. Neither even knew if the other was alive. Kennedia's arms were pretty full, but she was managing. She had run pretty far, considering, but was now hiding in what must have once been part of a small building, relatively intact. she hadn't had more than a few nibbles of bread and her matches were completely unused. She was saving her supplies. She didn't need the first-aid kit yet, but it could really help her ally.

Lyssa was in a pretty similar spot, but she had nothing but a bow and an axe. The cut on her arm didn't look too deep, but she was still bleeding and she looked like she was in a lot of pain. She had cut off the sleeves of her t-shirt (good idea; it was probably really hot), but they hadn't been long enough to make a proper bandage. If she wanted to survive, she would have to find bandages, food and water. Meeting up would be helpful to both Kennedia and Lyssa, as each had something the other needed. Though Kennedia could probably do without a weapon for awhile. Good for her!

The view switched back to the careers, who were all cleaned up, packed, and ready to go. These games were going to be interesting.

* * *

**A/N: So, this chapter didn't actually take too long to write (I must be writing faster) but a whole lot of time to plan. I literally spent all of yesterday looking up maps of ancient greece, so I apologise if the arena is incredibly incorrect. The gamemakers didn't know much about ancient greece. I didn't write on Saturday because I was too busy reading The Fault in Our Stars, which I finished in one sitting.**

**Anyway****, don't forget to leave a review and thanks to everyone who already did!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Again, this chapter contains some violence, though nothing worse than in The Hunger Games trilogy.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins**

* * *

I am going to die.

That was the one coherent thought Lytha Mazely was able to form as she sat slumped against the wall surrounding the city. She knew, with absolute certainty, that there was no way she would be able to make it out of the arena. She would most likely bleed to death here, but sooner or later the careers would find her. It wasn't exactly like she was very well hidden. And even if she somehow, miraculously, managed to survive the day, she would be weak and even more helpless than usual.

What a heroic way to die. In her fantasies, the characters had all made some kind of noble sacrifice, bravely facing death for the sake of their people. She had always hoped she would go the same way, but it appeared that was impossible.

She had considered ending the suffering right there, she did have a knife, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Only a coward would do such a thing, and she was sick of being weak. She would fight until the very end, even when it seemed hopeless.

Once again, she tried to tie her makeshift bandage, but she still didn't have the strength. Besides, she wasn't even sure it would work. As a last-ditch effort, she looked up at the sky, and whispered "Bandages. First aid. Anything, please" But nothing came. Either she didn't have any sponsors, or Mags thought nothing could save her at this point. Most likely both.

The worst part was that she was close to the water; she could tell. If she could only make it there, it might be able to heal her, and she might actually stand a chance, albeit a small one.

Wait a minute…

"Water" she croaked, looking up at the sky again. But once again, nothing came. "Please. Please, it can't be that expensive. It will help me, I promise, just give me a bottle of water!" She was sobbing now, but no tears were coming out.

Finally, she saw it, and immense relief washed over her. A silver parachute, slowly drifting down toward her. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much." She opened it eagerly the moment it hit her lap.

She took a tentative sip, and immediately felt better. Not a lot better, but enough to get her going. With her right hand, she reached over and poured a small amount onto the wound, willing the water to stay there for a few minutes, before letting it go. Best to save her strength. She could feel the pain fade and the wound start to heal, but it would take a lot more than that. She took out her strip of t-shirt and poured as much water as she could spare onto it, then gently reached over to put it in place.

Lytha almost blacked out from the pain. Water or not, it still hurt like crazy when she tried to move her shoulder. She managed to tie the fabric weirdly under her arm, trying to keep it in the awkward position the wound was in. The water on the bandage helped, but she still added a little bit more, just to be safe. She was almost done her bottle now. She took one last sip, then stood up slowly, carefully, using the wall for balance. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and set off for the river.

* * *

It could have been worse for Kennedia Wells. She couldn't say that she was doing well, exactly, but things were looking up for her. She had made it through the bloodbath with but a few scrapes and bruises, and had sufficient supplies.

After checking that the coast was clear, she stood up and set off at a brisk walk, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and the careers. Her first-aid kit had come with straps long enough for her to sling it over her shoulder, and the bread was light enough to carry without too much trouble, though it did make running a little difficult.

As she walked, she untied the knot in her plastic bag and tore off a chunk of bread. She was really starting to get hungry, but she didn't want to waste any. It would be a few days before it went stale, and she wanted to make the loaf last as long as possible. Hopefully she would find some other source of food, as well as some water, before too long.

Once the path cleared up a bit, she jumped into a light jog. How was it that some tributes could move through even forests without making a single sound? As hard as she tried, it was absolutely impossible. Every step she took, she would snap a branch, crush some leaves, or kick rocks all over the place. Even her footfalls seemed to resonate all around the arena, alerting every tribute to her presence.

She went back to a walk. Partly because she felt indiscreet, and partly because, to be honest, she wasn't feeling great. The insanely rich diet she had been on in the capitol, coupled with the hunger she was now experiencing, meant that she wasn't really in top form. She thought of taking some of the nausea medication from her first-aid kit, but figured she might have greater need of it later on. She sincerely hoped she wouldn't ever need it, or any of the items in her kit for that matter, but it was best to stay on the safe side.

She didn't realize how distracted she had gotten until and arrow whizzed by her, just barely missing her face.

She snapped awake immediately and dropped to the ground, hoping to hide hersefl from sight. She looked around frantically, heart pounding, but couldn't see her attacker just yet. There was a runied building not far from where she was lying; that was probably where she was.

Kennedia knew it was a better idea to attack than to try to run away, but she had no weapons. Besides, she didn't know who it was hiding behind those pillars; she could easily be facing the careers. Slowly, carefully, she got on her hands and knees, and began crawling backwards. She chanced a glance behind her, searching frantically for somewhere to hide. She snapped a twig. When she looked back, another arrow narrowly missed her. Two misses: That meant her attacker was either incompetent with a bow, or injured. Kennedia wasn't sure which would be better.

There was a rock just large enough behind her and a few meters to her left. If she could just get to that, maybe she could figure out a plan. She continued moving backwards, keeping her eyes on the building in case of another attack. None came. Hopefully, this meant the tribute was being cautious.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the rock and ducked behind it. She was grateful for her small size; few tributes would have been able to pull that off. Though she hadn't gotten away just yet. She peeked around the boulder, watching the place she was pretty sure the tribute was hiding. Nothing happened.

But as she studied the pillars carefully, she noticed a lock of brown hair sticking out from behind one of them. And was that the end of a bow? Or a quiver of arrows?

As she watched, a girl peeked out from behind the pillar, but thankfully didn't seem to notice Kennedia. Cautiously, bow loaded, she stepped out and looked around. She had a quiver of arrows on her back, and her left arm, which held two arrows at once on the string, was bloodied. That explained the poor aim.

"Who are you?" She yelled "Don't think I'll hesitate to use this bow!"

Kennedia gasped. "Lyssa?" she whispered. And indeed it was her ally; dirty, scratched up and injured, but very much alive.

Lyssa whipped around, pointing her bow straight at Kennedia's rock. "Who's there?" She was clearly trying to sound threating, but her voice betrayed her fear. Still, she began walking toward the rock, and Kennedia doubted she would hesitate to kill a tribute.

"It's me!" She yelled. "Kennedia!" She suddenly wondered if Lyssa would even care; had the games changed her already? Would she show mercy toward a girl who had once been her ally? Did she even recognize her?

For a second, she didn't say anything. Then, in a weak voice, "Kennedia?"

She stepped out from behind her boulder, to find that her ally had lowered her weapon. Lyssa sighed with relief and ran over to her, enveloping her in a hug before stepping away, gripping her shoulders. "Oh my gods, I thought you were dead!" She cried "You're okay, though? I can't believe I almost killed you. I am so sorry."

Kennedia smiled weakly. "I'm fine, but I don't think you are. Here-" she stepped away and took the first aid kit off her shoulder. "I've got this, plus a loaf of bread. We can share."

Lyssa's eyes were the size of saucers. "I don't deserve you." She muttered, reaching immediately for the bread. She tore off a big chunk, but Kennedia didn't object.

"Here, sit down. I'll help you with your arm." Lyssa looked down as if just remembering the huge gash on her arm, then did as Kennedia said.

"How did this happen?" Kennedia asked, rummaging around in her kit for the right supplies.

"The boy from seven. He wanted my bow, but someone else killed him. I took his axe, by the way. You can use it." She hissed in pain as her ally applied the disinfectant. "You're so lucky you got out quickly, Kennedia, that is a picture I will never get out of my head. It was horrible."

"Well, at least you made it." She replied quietly. She wasn't sure exactly what to say to that. she had seen the bloodbath on T.V many times, and knew how horrible it could be, but experiencing it in person… That was enough to drive anyone insane. She was just glad Lyssa had escaped before things had gotten worse.

Once her ally's arm was securely bandaged, Kennedia sat back on the rock. "So, what next?"

"We've got first aid, a bit of food, and sufficient weapons. Next is water. Where do you suppose we could find that?"

Kennedia pursed her lips. "If this is really ancient greece, then we've probably been moving away from the water, but we can't go back since that would mean careers. Not to mention that every other tribute would go to the same place. The river probably surrounds the arena, so technically we could find it by continuing in the direction we were going in, but we'd never make it that far. There had to have been other water sources, right?"

Lyssa nodded. "So if we just continue moving away from the cornucopia, we might stumble across something."

"Right." They really could have used a Poseidon kid at this point. Well, they would just have to see how well they could do on their own.

"So I say we get moving."

They both got up and split up their meagre supplies; Kennedia carried the kit, while Lyssa carried the bread, then they went back to the ruined building where Lyssa had left her axe. Neither of the girls knew how to use it, but a weapon was a weapon. It would have to come in handy at some point, right? Once ready, they set off, hopefully moving away from the careers.

* * *

Kaspian Peryte could really use a miracle about now.

He was tired, hungry, thirsty, and had no way of satisfying his needs. Maybe his decision to run without going for supplies had bought him a few hours, but he wouldn't last long in his state. Maybe he would suddenly and inexplicably stumble across a stream or a patch of edible berries, but that seemed unlikely. He was on his own. Maybe he should have just stayed with the careers, since he couldn't find Thalia anyways. He shouldn't have listened to her, he had been right in the first place; he was better off with the careers.

He kept walking, aimlessly, away from the cornucopia, hoping he might stumble across her, laden with supplies. This was where he'd told her to go. He'd find her eventually. Because he refused to believe she could be dead, she couldn't be, not after all that had happened. She was better than that, stronger, he knew she was. She had made it out without a single scratch, and managed to grab a whole bunch of food and water and everything they'd need to survive.

And she was going to find him.

He continued to run, as tired as he may be, still desperately looking for anything he could use. There was grass, bushes, a few trees, surely something was edible? He stopped at what looked like a bush of berries he recognized from the training centre. Cautiously, he picked one and examined it. Split it open. He was ninety-nine percent sure it was edible, so he popped it into his mouth. It was sweet, juicy, and he wasn't dead yet, so he picked as many as he could find and continued on his way.

It was cooling down a bit as the sun began to set, which made running much more comfortable. Still, that meant the death recap would come soon, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. He knew most of the tributes from camp, and knew that many of them must have died already. Nine cannons had sounded. Nine tributes dead. He knew more than that number.

He suddenly realized that Thalia had been right the other night (gods, had it actually been less than twenty-four hours?) about how knowing where she was would make things easier. He hadn't believed her at the time, but he realized that it was the wondering, the not knowing, the suspense, that was driving him insane. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to know with absolute certainty that she was alive and okay and with him.

Because he was beginning to panic.

What if she was alive, but injured and slowly bleeding to death back at the cornucopia, waiting for him to rescue her? All the recap would tell him was whether she was alive or dead. Maybe she was better off dead. Maybe the games would be easier for him if she was dead.

Kaspian wondered if the games had already made him lose his mind. Thalia wasn't important, she was just a friend, she had to die anyway. Why was he worried about her when he should be worried about himself? He should be looking for food, water, shelter, but all he wanted to do was collapse and wait for someone to find him. He was so, so tired.

No. He was Kaspian Peryte. He was a son of Athena, a demigod, and his mind was not that fragile. He would not be taken down that easily. He got up, not having realized that he had sat down, and took off again. His limbs burned, but he told himself he could rest once the sun went down. He had basically sprinted this whole way, and knew the careers were unlikely to reach him, but he kept running just to be safe. After about fifteen or twenty minutes, he was gasping for breath, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, but he kept going, at least at a walk. He had to.

Finally, he stopped to look for a good place to rest. The sun was going down and he was exhausted, but he didn't see anywhere good enough just yet. In fact, he had to walk about two kilometres before he eventually stumbled upon the ruins of a building that would provide sufficient shelter. He walked in and practically collapsed. He didn't have a sleeping bag or anything, so he just lay down and it wasn't long before he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Kaspian was jolted awake by the anthem blaring in the middle of the night. Once he realized what was happening, he scrambled into a sitting position and watched the sky, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. This was it.

He silently prayed to every god he knew of, knowing they had no power over this. He prayed she was alive. He prayed his friends were okay. He hoped against hope that all the careers had been killed. Maybe he _was_ losing his mind.

The first face was the boy from 3, and Kaspian let out a sigh of relief. He didn't know him. That meant the careers from 1 and 2 were all alive, as was Kennedia Wells from 3. Good, he liked her. Next was the boy from 5, who he knew from camp but didn't really like. That meant Lytha, Hunter and Lyssa were all alive. Dahlia from 6 was shown, and he felt a pang of grief. She had been his friend. The boy from 6 was also dead, but he already knew that, he'd heard the bombs go off. The boy from 7. The butterflies in his stomach were gong crazy. Who was next?

Thalia's face appeared in the sky, and he slumped in defeat. She was dead. Gone. Brutally murdered by one of the careers. That's why he'd never found her. The faces of the girl from 10 and the boy from 12 flashed by, but he didn't care.

As the anthem played, he curled up once again, but this time, his sleep was plagued by nightmares.

* * *

The Hunger Games were everything Bryce had hoped they would be. Blood, killing, violence, and a chance to show off his amazing skills. Admittedly, he would have liked to have gone hunting right away instead of staying behind to waste time organizing their supplies and cleaning up, which was totally the whole point of the hunger games and not, like, actually killing tributes. Honestly, none of them were injured that seriously.

Nevertheless, he had helped his allies, working as quickly as possible so that their victims wouldn't get too far away from them. The more he worked with his allies, the more he began to dislike them; Hunter was still annoying as hell, Citrine was a useless, whiny drama queen, and Quartz was infuriatingly cocky. As for Skyler… She was insane. Like, he honestly feared for her mental health.

"Guys, I think that's enough! How 'bout we go hunting now?" He yelled to the careers, totally fed up with the waiting. He needed to kill someone, and soon.

Skyler immediately jumped up, a manical grin on her face. "Yes, that's a brilliant idea! Let's follow that trail of blood. Come on guys!"

Quartz also agreed, as did Hunter (both a bit too enthusiastically), and Citrine seemed game, though Bryce doubted she had the courage to stand up to the career pack anyways.

"I'll go, I guess" She said "but we don't need to follow the blood. I know where I hit Lytha, and she won't last long."

Skyler glared at her. "Fine, then. Where do you think we should go? Do you know of any sure places to find tributes?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I saw tributes go that way" She pointed directly away from the trail "and that way" a bit to the right.

"Okay, so we split up, thank gods. District one, you guys go together; I'll go with Bryce. And we're sure as hell not taking district four."

Quartz wrinkled his nose. "How 'bout I just go alone? They'll slow me down, anyways" And Bryce didn't really blame him. Setting off to spend time with Citrine and Hunter? Not something he would enjoy.

Skyler glared at him again. "No, I think _you'll_ slow _them_ down. Besides, I don't expect your group to actually find a tribute, anyways, I just need you out of the way. Which is why you're going that way." She pointed directly away from the wall. "Me and Bryce will go where I'm pretty sure I saw a tribute, and we'll meet up before sunrise. Got it?" She didn't wait for a reply before stalking off to find her weapons. Quartz, seething, did the same, and Bryce had to resist the urge to laugh. He was developing a lot more respect for Skyler.

He grabbed a sword and followed her into the ruins, treading carefully so as to not make too much noise. They had set out a bit later than they probably should have, so it was already pitch-black, and even with their night-vision goggles, they had trouble seeing much. They listened carefully for any sounds, always on the alert, but all they heard was animals.

When they were well out of earshot, Skyler spoke up.

"In case you haven't already realized, I work on my own. So just stay out of my way, do your own thing, and this should go over well. Oh, and I have dibs on the first tribute."

He nodded, though he didn't think she could see him. "I have a feeling we'll make a good team. I work on my own too; no allies, no friends."

"Friends?" She echoed, like it was a foreign concept to her, "I have no friends. Anyone I don't have a solid alliance with needs to be killed, and even they are never totally safe."

He smiled. They really would make an excellent team.

They walked on in silence, which Bryce was totally fine with. They listened, focused on their work, always on the alert. He liked the way Skyler thought; he had met her at training in two, of course, and been thoroughly impressed by her, but they'd never been anywhere near 'friends'. In fact, he doubted they had ever had a single conversation.

After about twenty minutes, he spoke up. "I wonder if the others have found any tributes. Actually, I wonder if Quartz has killed them yet."

"No cannons." she pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

"But frankly, I really don't care. I hate them all. Maybe they'll come in handy, but I still can't wait for them to die."

They continued searching, until Skyler stopped abruptly, and threw her arm out to stop him. She turned and put her finger to her lips, signalling for him to be quiet. Then she slowly crept into a ruined building, where the rustling had come from. Careful not to make any noise, she peeked behind a half-destroyed wall, and Bryce came up behind her, ready to stand watch. He would have liked to kill the first tribute, but she had called it already, and he didn't want to spare her the pleasure.

There, lying on the ground, was a girl. Maybe about fourteen or fifteen, much smaller than Bryce, but beyond that, he couldn't identify her. She was sleeping fitfully, with no sleeping bag, tossing and turning, muttering unintelligibly. An easy kill.

Skyler moved behind her and placed her sword under the girl's chin, then pressed gently. Her eyes snapped open. Seeing Bryce, she scrambled into a sitting position, which only gave Skyler the chance to wrap her other arm around her torso.

"So, what do we have here?" she cooed.

The girl gasped as Skyler tightened her grip, silent tears running down her face. "Please" she croaked "I can help you."

Skyler, clearly enjoying herself, smirked. "Can you really? How?"

"I-I-I'm a demigod. Like you. I've had training, I'm practically a career."

Skyler laughed "Practically a career? Who's your godly parent, then? Which district are you from? How old are you?"

"Demeter." She gasped "I know lots about survival, but I've had swordfighting lessons too. I could help you. I'm from nine, but does it even matter? And I'm fifteen. Older than one of your allies."

She laughed again. "I remember you. And trust me when I say that anyone who was beaten so easily by Quartz is not someone I want to be near. Looks like you're out of luck, kid, 'cause I want to kill someone. And demigod or not, you'll have to do."

She pulled a knife from her belt, and placed it on the tribute's cheek. The poor girl looked like she might die of a heart attack. But she still had the strength to move her right hand up to place it on top of Skyler's, the one holding the sword to her throat. Bryce saw her dig her nails in, try to twist her wrist, and raised his own sword. Before she even realized what was happening, he had cut a huge gash in her arm, and she let out a piercing scream that echoed loudly throughout the arena. She was sobbing now, gasping for breath, begging for them to just kill her and get it over with. Skyler was enjoying every minute of it.

She dug her dagger into the girl's cheek, but this time she gritted her teeth and managed not to make a sound, though her face betrayed the incredible pain she was in.

"Better," Skyler whispered into her ear "maybe you are worthy of the careers, after all. It's a shame you'll have to die so early on. You never got to really _enjoy_ the games."

She repeated the process until the tribute finally passed out, at which point she stood up and wiped her hands on her shorts.

"Well, that was fun. Let's see how long this girl lasts!" They gathered their stuff and started to make their way back to the cornucopia.

It was a full thirty minutes before the cannon sounded.

* * *

**A/N: For those of you confused about which tributes are dead, I have an updated list on my profile. However, this does change with every chapter, so make sure you've read all the chapters if you don't want to be spoiled.**

**Please leave a review!**


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